


Moving Pictures

by Hatsonhamburgers



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 12 Step Programs, 2002, Addiction, Addiction recovery, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Art School, Alternate Universe - College/University, Art School, Artist Castiel, Check trigger warnings please - Freeform, Cigarettes, Destiel - Freeform, Drug Use, Emo Castiel, Eventual Smut, Fallout Boy references, Gay Panic, George W years, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Past Drug Use, Self-Harm, Will update tags, but I promise some smut, film school, film student Dean, i got the angst real bad tho, i will post trigger warnings each chapter, they smoke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-10 10:20:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 51,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7841002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hatsonhamburgers/pseuds/Hatsonhamburgers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel Novak has been given a second chance at life.  Once a homeless strung-out addict, he has gotten clean and been fortunate enough to get into an art college.  With the past nipping at his heels, he falls for a film student, Dean Winchester, who has demons of his own.<br/>Cas finds himself having to cope with emotions without using, and without chasing off the only person he'd ever let into his secret heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. On Smoking

**Author's Note:**

> This is so very loosely based on all things early 2000's, and of course, had to be named after a Fallout Boy song.  
> I will tag as I go, but also I will post the trigger warnings here.

Castiel looked around the room slowly. He felt a bubble of inappropriate laughter trying to make its way up from his chest to escape, but he was pretty sure that would earn him some pretty strange looks from his equally bored classmates. 

The teacher was going over the syllabus for the semester, and as grateful that Cas was for the _very_ detailed description of every single test, assignment, and quiz for the next few months, he really couldn’t focus on anything but the spit piling up at the corners of her mouth as she spoke. Occasionally, she would pause to take a breath, and the next utterance would be just forceful enough to turn the collected saliva into a projectile, launched at whatever poor soul decided it would be a good idea to sit in the front row on the first day of school. 

Castiel had the forethought (actually it was more on the side of cowardice) to sit close to the back of the room so he could observe without being drawn into any unnecessary interaction. The closest student was a slender red headed girl who was busy trying to fold her syllabus into an intricate origami swan. She had smiled when he sat down at the start of class, and seemed to radiate a sort of carefree, comfortable attitude that Castiel himself had yet to master in the presence of others. 

None of those observations were the actual cause of his out-of-place amusement. 

Midway through the teacher’s explanation of why they would be learning to write movie critiques as part of their grade, Castiel had been struck with the sensation of being in a completely surreal situation. He had that sudden grounding punch of connection to reality strike him as he sat there, akin to having your ears pop after a change in elevation. He didn’t know how not-present he was until he was present. 

And his present had him sitting in a classroom of a small, private art college on the first day of school.

Simple, really. A very simple setting, with a simple role to fulfill. 

But reality up until then, had been dramatically different, and the sudden contrast between ‘junkie mental patient living in a halfway house while on probation’ and ‘fine art college student attending English 101’ was so ridiculous he wanted to howl with laughter. 

But he held carefully onto the stoic mask he reserved for the judge, his PO, and that scumbag, Crowley who ran the halfway house. The mask he had carefully honed to protect himself and to appear that he had his shit together, when inside he was having a complete come-apart. 

“Six times,” whispered a voice from his right.

Castiel glanced at the redhead who was still working on the creases of her swan.

“I’m sorry?” he asked.

“Six times,” she repeated, “I’ve counted six times that she’s hocked a pretty sizeable loogie onto the front row in the last half hour.”

Cas snorted a laugh that he had to quickly turn into a cough. The teacher raised her eyebrows at him and he waved an apology at her and continued his cough charade for a few more seconds. 

As soon as her back was turned, Castiel turned to his classmate to address this very important topic. 

“I counted seven,” he deadpanned, “if you were to include the one that landed on her arm as she gesticulated while explaining her office hours.”

It was Red’s turn to stifle laughter. She looked over to him with a knowing smirk.

“Did we just become best friends?” she asked him with a mad gleam in her eye.

Castiel returned the smile, flashing teeth. He was about to respond when he realized how quiet the room suddenly was. He looked up to see the teacher glaring at them and the rest of the class focusing their general disinterest in their direction. Castiel muttered an apology as his face reddened. Probably not good to get in trouble in his first class on his first day. 

The teacher huffed and continued her graphic description of what would happen if you turned in an assignment late. After a few moments, Red turned and gave him a guilty look mouthing an apology. He smiled and waved her off. He liked her. It felt childish to actually wish that maybe they would be best friends (he hadn’t had a best friend since sixth grade), but he was a goddamn grown-ass man. He should be cool no matter what. But looking at her Star Wars backpack and Pokemon digital watch and red Pumas made him want to squeal and proclaim them BFF’s and go ahead and set up the first slumber party. 

Class ended none too soon, and Castiel shoved his rumpled syllabus into his messenger bag and stood up. 

“I’m Charlie,” his new friend said, extending a hand gleefully, “sorry I got you in trouble, I do that when I get bored.”

“Not a problem,” Castiel replied. “I’m Castiel Novak.”

An awkward silence followed and he knew this would be the moment she would decide he was a weirdo and wander off. She’d probably sit somewhere else next class and avoid him in the hall.

“Soooo....” she said, quirking her brow and rocking back on her heels, “wanna go smoke a cigarette?” 

He looked back at her, surprised. 

“Absolutely,” he sighed in relief. They headed out down the English hall to the front doors of the school. He was glad he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t quit smoking yet- it seemed everyone his age was quitting. His sponsor had recommended he try to quit after he’d been clean for a year first. 

They made their way to the pillar to the left of the entrance. There was already a small group of students gathered there, some leaning against the wall, some standing, others sprawled on the ground, talking and laughing, and of course, smoking.

Castiel alway enjoyed the fellowship that came along with being a smoker. He could be anywhere- a meeting, an appointment, outside a restaurant- and he would make friends with whoever else was smoking too. It was an excellent conversation starter and ice breaker. It kept both your mouth and hands busy so there didn’t have to be a lull in the conversation. You could always use ‘do you have a lighter’ as a conversation starter, or ‘I really should quit.’ It was also a good way to find out who had dope, or at least who were the people were that liked to party. It was the illusion of cool, the mystique of the badass, the ultimate timekiller. 

Castiel pulled his pack out of his jacket pocket and held it out to Charlie, offering her one.

“Oh, no, I don’t smoke,” she said, plopping her books on the ground and sitting against the pillar. “I just could tell you might need one. And besides, I like to sit with the smokers because they are generally more interesting people to photograph.”

Castiel hummed thoughtfully at the camera bag he had just noticed she was carrying. He lit up and slid to the ground as well. 

“Photo major?” he asked, taking a long drag, “or film?”

“Right the first time,” she said, “and I’m guessing by the eyeliner, tattoos, and monochromatic fashion that you’re in fine arts.”

Castiel looked down at his all-black clothing. “What? They’re easy to match this way.”

Charlie chuckled and held her hand out to take his wrist and examine the work on his forearm. She whistled lowly in appreciation. He had designed all of his tattoos and had only had that particular piece completed a month ago. It was a gift from a friend- his only friend at the halfway house. Meg was from a wealthy family but all the treatment centers in the world couldn’t keep her clean. So her parents sent her to Crowley’s dump of a halfway house hoping to teach her humility. She was cool and a good friend to Castiel, and they looked out for each other. 

The tattoo actually started on his shoulder and twisted the length of his arm. It was black and gray ink (ha! Also monochromatic) and the linework was detailed and beautiful.

“Wings,” Charlie sighed, “I’m so jealous. I want to get a tattoo, but I’m a chicken. And also I’d probably get some cartoon character that will be obsolete in a few years. The one time I got drunk, my friend had to stop me from getting squirtle holding an umbrella tattooed on my left buttcheek. Reason number 243 that I don’t drink.”

Castiel snickered. This girl was really cool. And she didn’t drink, so that was a major plus. Castiel hadn’t really made any friends in recovery besides Meg, mostly because everyone was so much older. 25 was pretty young to be getting clean and sober, but Castiel had honestly felt like he’d already lived an entire lifetime by the time he went to rehab.

“Hey Ansel Adams,” said a voice from the direction of the front doors, “who’s your friend?”

Charlie’s face lit up as saw the owner of the voice approach. Castiel watched as a young man rounded the pillar and grabbed Charlie by the arms and hauled her up off the ground into a bearhug. She squeeked and kissed him loudly on the cheek. He chuckled and looked down at Castiel. The sun was at an angle but after he stepped to the right, Castiel recognized him from the class they were just in. 

He was tall, broadly built, and pretty. Holy shit, he was pretty. He offered out a hand to Castiel who took it and dumbly shook it, wondering only for a split second if this adonis would haul him up and hug him too. 

“I’m Dean,” he said, teeth flashing, “and you are…”

“Castiel.”

Dean plunked down on the concrete right between Charlie and Castiel.

“Castiel?” Dean said with a smile, “I like that, it’s different. Sounds French?”

It was more a question than a statement. Castiel shook his head, a smile slowly creeping its way across his face. It was hard to look directly at the boy without smiling, he was just so damn _pretty._

“I’m named after an angel,” he said, “Castiel is the angel of Thursdays.”

“Oh…” Charlie said, dragging out the word, “I get it now, angel wings.”

Castiel nodded and took another drag of his cigarette to fill the silence. As if on cue, Dean pulled his out and lit up, grumbling about needing to quit. 

“So, Cas,” Dean said, with an appraising eye, “I’m guessing fine arts?” 

Charlie giggled, “I guessed that too, but it has yet to be confirmed.”

Castiel smiled. “You got me. I’m the college’s poster child for the fine art program. They dressed me this morning for the photo shoot and I haven’t had a chance to change. Usually I look more like a tax accountant. But Admissions didn’t like that- they said it would ruin the image the Fine Arts department needs to uphold.”

Dean was cracking up. Castiel felt a warmth bloom in his chest as he smiled broader. He had made this beautiful man laugh and he was simply breathtaking with his eyes sparkling and his nose crinkled up. 

“Oh, whew, I like you,” Dean said wiping an eye, causing Cas to blush slightly. 

Dean glanced down at his phone. 

“Oops, shit, I gotta run,” he said, jumping to his feet, “I need to talk to my advisor before my editing class.”

“I guess that means you’re in film,” Cas ventured.

“Yep,” Dean said winking, “You’re looking at the next Scorsese.” 

With that, he waved and spun, headed back into the school. Castiel watched his retreat and sighed. 

“What _was_ that?” Charlie asked knowingly.

Cas jolted slightly, having forgotten she was there. She was wiggling her eyebrows at him.

He reddened and looked away, hoping this wasn’t going to be an awkward conversation. 

“Oh, I’m just kidding,” Charlie said quickly, “If you’re not out, I won’t say anything, I would never put you on front street like that.”

Cas looked at her gratefully. 

“Was it that obvious?” 

“You mean when you were ogling his ass?” she smirked, “I mean even I think he has a nice ass, and boys are not exactly my area of expertise.”

Cas nodded at the implication and felt relief. He sighed wistfully.

“It is an ass I’d like to bounce a quarter off of,” he said, scratching at his forearm absently while Charlie lost her shit, “Is he straight? He’s straight isn’t he.”

Castiel waited patiently for Charlie to stop giggling.

“Honestly, I have no idea,” she responded, “sometimes I’m not too sure. I’m really drawn to him. And I have this theory about gay folks being pulled together like magnets. In fact, when I hadn’t come out yet, wasn’t even sure really yet, I one day looked up and realized that every single one of my friends were gay or bi. I think I was able to feel more comfortable with myself being gay when I had surrounded myself with people who I felt comfortable with. Like I knew they would already accept me. And Dean seems the most relaxed when he’s with us.”

“Us?” asked Cas.

“Oh, yeah,” Charlie said, “my friend Kevin and I. He’s bisexual and Dean made friends with him too. He’s also in the film department. I’m sure you’ll meet him soon enough.”

“I feel like I’ve just been adopted,” Cas said with a touch of wonder in his voice, “and you don’t know anything about me.”

Charlie just smiled warmly at him. 

“You’re older than most students, I’d say 25-ish? And that means life got in the way of going to school until now. You like me, so that means you’re awesome, and you like Dean’s ass, so that means you’re at least 50% gay. You probably have baggage like the rest of us losers, and art school? It’s a magnet for weirdos and head cases, so you’ll fit right in.”

Castiel couldn’t help the smile that stretched across his face. They stood up and walked back into the building together. 

It was going to be okay. He had a few new friends and felt less like an alien than he did before class. He had another three hours left, then he could get to a meeting and call his sponsor. Something could actually work out for once in his life.


	2. Crash Course

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING:
> 
> *Mentions of _Firefly_. It's painful to talk about.
> 
> *Also mentions of _Attack of the Clones._ I'm so sorry. 
> 
> But we seem to have established a date- September of 2002.

Dean sat in the back of the computer lab, trying to give the impression that he was working on Final Cut Pro. But really, he was messing around on Myspace. 

He scrolled through the many friend requests that had been sent to his profile. It was mostly pretty hot chicks, with the occasional guy from high school thrown in. He approved them all and looked at the friend counter. 78. That was pretty cool, he guessed. He pondered on why it was that he felt compelled to get as many Myspace friends as possible. It was an odd desire; to want to be virtually connected with people he would never meet in person, not to actually form a relationship with them, but just to have them be a number on his homepage. 

Dean tapped his finger idly on the mouse button, eyes glazed over in thought. If he could somehow obtain the maximum number of friends via internet, would that somehow make him feel more complete? Was this wild urge for a higher number connected to the same part of his brain that wanted to increase the number of girls he slept with? 

He had already hooked up with a couple of pretty hot girls using Myspace, but it was just the kind of casual sex he could get from hanging out at a coffee shop or going to a concert on the riverfront. And he wasn’t too concerned about that, except that one of the girls had already posted about what a good time they had with him, and he could see how it might get sticky if the other girl saw the post. He hadn’t made a commitment to either, but he found it interesting how something so simple and seemingly cool could cause a whole bunch of drama shit. 

He blinked his eyes into focus and typed out a status update: “Living it, Loving it, Looking Fucking Good Doing it.”

Yeah, it was cheesy, but it was just the kind of thing his “friends” would expect from him. The whole internal debate had to be put on hold as the rest of the class trickled in and he pulled back up the program he was supposed to be studying.

“Hey, man,” said Victor, a fellow film major, as he slipped into the seat next to Dean, “you catch the episode of that new show _Firefly_ on Friday? That shit was cool.”

Dean shook his head and smiled.

“Yeah I had to work, so Sammy taped it for me, but I haven’t watched it yet.” Dean quirked a smile, thinking about how excited his brother had gotten over the show and how hard it was to keep him from blurting out everything about it when Dean got home at midnight. 

Victor whistled. “I think you’ll dig it- Joss Whedon is writing for it, and I know what a big Buffy nerd you are-”

Dean whacked Victor and hushed him.

“Dude.” He said, “Not cool.”

Victor just smirked in response and clicked his spacebar a few times to wake up his computer. 

********

The class was nearly over and Dean was beginning to get antsy. During break, he had ducked back into school to talk to his advisor about changing a class or two so he could work more hours at the shop. So he had put his cigarette out early, and now he really needed one.

He had promised Sammy he would stop smoking. But it never seemed to be the right time to do it. The stress of everyday life plus new things popping up kept him procrastinating his promise. First it was starting a new job. Then it was that the guys at the shop smoked while doing car repairs and maybe he would just smoke at work. But then the decision to enroll in film school put him on edge which made him smoke even more. 

The most fucked up thing was that he was lying to his brother about how much he was still smoking. Every time he would resolutely decide to quit- and would set a date- he would ramp up his smoking, as if the nicotine addiction was protesting the very _thought_ of quitting. 

He felt like a piece of shit. His dad used to do the same thing with his drinking. The last thing in the world Dean wanted to be was like his dad. 

Dean shook his head, as if to clear his thoughts. Maybe that new kid would be out there- he seemed cool. Charlie always had really good friend radar, and he trusted her judgement to drag Cas into their happy little circle. Dean liked his style. He wore an air of truly-don’t-give-a-fuck, but Dean could see there was a lot more going on under that layer of indifference. He wore the traditional art school uniform of all black, and it hugged his body well. His hair was a shock of unruly dark brown without product in it- styled by fingers running through it absently.

His eyes were a shocking blue. When Dean had turned around in his chair at the sound of snorting laughter in the middle of English 101, he was startled by the sky-blue rimmed in black eyeliner. It was one thing for Cas to just be some emo kid Charlie was chilling with, but when Dean was under the scrutiny of those brilliant anime eyes- he shuddered slightly thinking about it.

Then he winced. Where was that line of thinking going to get him? A life full of pain and rejection. It was okay for Charlie and Kevin, but he was content to be the token straight guy in the club. He could appreciate how aesthetically pleasing some human beings were without thinking about them _that way,_ he was an aspiring filmmaker after all. He had a natural eye for beauty, and Castiel was just...sort of beautiful. 

Now he really needed a cigarette. Like now. Like three at one time. 

Fortunately, movement around him pulled him from his musings as the class stuffed paperwork into their backpacks. Dean followed suit, shutting his mind down and jetting out the door and down the hall faster than he should have. He rounded the corner to the foyer and ran smack into someone going the same speed. Papers flew, a book was flung, and Dean found himself sitting on the floor looking up at the very eyes he was just waxing poetic over. 

And covered in soda.

“Holy fuck, I am so sorry, Dean,” Cas exclaimed, eyes wide as he dropped down to gather their things, “I wasn’t paying attention…” 

He looked so ashamed that Dean couldn’t help but let him off the hook.

“Naw, man, it’s cool,” Dean said, flicking Coke of his fingers and moving to stand. Castiel beat him to it and held out a hand to haul Dean up, continuing to babble apologies.

“Wait here, I’ll get some paper towels.” 

Dean watched Cas retreat to the bathroom across the hall. He assessed the damage to his clothing, but the majority of the soda had landed on his arm, sparing his AC/DC shirt, which was black anyway and wouldn’t show a stain. No big deal, really.

Castiel reappeared in a flurry of paper towels and flushed cheeks. His eyes looked suspiciously wet. Dean stood stupidly still as Cas blotted his arm off with the towels, marveling at how close they suddenly were. He snapped out of it and took the towels from Cas.

“Hey, man, seriously, it’s cool,” Dean repeated. 

Cas dropped his hands to his side and stepped back, still looking shaken. Dean furrowed his brow in concern.

“This clearly isn’t about spilling your drink on me,” Dean ventured, “wanna go burn one and hang out for a minute?”

Castiel sighed heavily and nodded his head gratefully, scooping up the used towels and depositing them in a nearby trash can. They headed out the doors to the front of the school. 

The evening had cooled the air considerably, and Dean breathed deeply as they walked out. He chuckled, causing a sideways look from Cas.

“I was just thinking,” Dean said, smile playing on his lips as he looked at the softening sky, “isn’t it fucked up how we go outside to ‘get some air’ but we’re just here to fill it with smoke?”

Cas chuckled as well, seeming to relax finally. They dropped to the still warm concrete and lit up, resting their backs against the wall, only inches apart. Dean thought it should feel strange to be this close to someone he just met, but the silence was comfortable. If Cas wanted to talk, Dean would let him, but he knew better than to press for answers- he had been on the other end of this situation too many times himself. 

Castiel exhaled a long stream of smoke and ground out the butt of his cigarette and flicked it away. He rested his arms on his knees and turned to look at Dean. He seemed to be reading him silently, searching Dean’s face for some kind of sign. Dean did his best to keep his face open and calm. Cas gave an almost imperceptible nod, having made a decision. He turned to face forward, and Dean waited for him to speak.

“I was just…” he started, pausing to squint at the sky, searching for words, “Fuck it, whatever. Okay so I’m like a junkie, but not a using junkie, right?” 

He looked at Dean out of the corner of his eye, to gauge his reaction, but Dean continued to smoke, unaffected by the words. He gave a slight nod, urging Cas to continue.

“I don’t know if you know anything about recovery, but I’m in it, and um, it’s hard?” Cas asked like he needed Dean’s permission to call it hard. 

“I know a little about it,” Dean said, smiling gently, “my dad’s a drunk. Been in and out of rehab. So I’m at least familiar with some of it.”

Castiel lit up and grinned at him. Dean was surprised at how readily he gave up this admission about his father. He never talked about it, not even to Charlie. It was more than a sore subject- it was a big ball of shame and embarrassment. But he somehow knew Cas would keep his secret without asking him to.

Castiel took a slow breath and slumped his shoulders, resting his head back against the wall, searching the clear sky again.

“I’m overwhelmed,” he said, “I guess that’s the word for it anyway. My whole life used to be so centered on one thing. Get dope, use dope, figure out how to get more dope, repeat. Now, for the first time, maybe in my whole life, I’m expected to make adult decisions? Like what? I just got brushing my teeth every day down, now I have to remember to make appointments and actually get to them, and if I don’t have a ride, then tough shit.”

Cas took a breath and looked away.

“Fuck, being a grown up is hard.”

Dean snorted out a laugh, earning a reproachful look from Castiel. Dean waved a hand amidst his chortling indicating that he wasn’t laughing at him.

“Yeah, man,” Dean said, wiping his eye, “it is so fucking hard. It sucks big time.”

Castiel hummed at the agreement and picked at his thumbnail. He eyed Dean and seemed to be working up to something.

“Dean, could you- I mean, you don’t have to, i could always ask someone else, I mean, okay never mind,it was a stupid idea, we just met anyway-”

Dean grabbed his arm to cut him off. Cas looked down in surprise at the contact, but didn’t pull away. 

“Just ask for what you need, Cas,” Dean said, squeezing his arm before letting go. 

Cas swallowed and started over. 

“Dean, could you give me a ride to the Probation Office, like soon?”

Dean grinned and stood. This time it was him that hauled Castiel to a standing position. 

“Come on, man,” Dean said, smiling over his shoulder at a stunned Cas, “we can grab food on the way back. Oh, and now you can meet Baby.”

 

Castiel stood staring for a minute before shaking out of his trance and trotting after Dean to catch up.

“Who’s Baby?” he asked curiously, running a hand through his hair.

Dean just smiled wider and lead Cas around the side of the building to the mostly deserted back parking lot to his 1967 black Chevy Impala. She was just where he had left her, parked in the shade, away from other cars to avoid dings and scratches. 

Castiel wolf whistled. “Day-um, that’s hot,” he growled out, causing a spark to run up Dean’s spine. That deep gravel voice complementing his Baby made him shiver slightly. Fortunately Cas didn’t seem to notice. 

“Thanks,” Dean said, trying to stifle some of the pride bubbling out of him like it did when he spoke about his car, “I take really good care of her. Had to rebuild her a few times, but she’s always been there for me and Sammy.”

“Sammy?”

“Sammy’s my little brother.” Cas nodded. “We practically lived in her for a while, when dad disappeared for a week.”

Dean felt his face heat up. He hadn’t meant to say that.

“Yeah,” said Cas, “I lived in a broken down Toyota for the summer once. Not nearly as nice as this.” He winked at Dean, relaxing him. 

“Wow, how do you even sleep in one of those?” Dean mused, smiling as he unlocked Cas’ door, “The backseat is really small.”

“This backseat is pretty large though,” Cas retorted, “you could get up to all sorts of trouble in a back seat like that.”

Dean froze. Did he just say that? Did he mean it like that? His hand was frozen about six inches from putting the key in the ignition.

Castiel seemed to sense his mistake and quickly took it back.

“I was just kidding, Dean, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Cas said through a grimace.

Dean forced a laugh and started the car.

“I know, man, it’s uh, it’s cool.” His face grew hotter as he pulled out of the parking lot.

“So anyway,” Cas said quickly, “you see the new Star Wars yet?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Oh my god, that abomination? I was hoping it would make up for the pile of shit _Phantom Menace_ left behind, but no such luck.”

“So you’re saying i shouldn’t bother?” Cas said, eyebrow up.

“Oh, no, you gotta see it,” Dean said flapping his hand at him, “be sacrilege not to- hey! If you’re not doing anything Friday, I don’t have work and we could go for an early showing? I mean if you want to?”

Cas was smirking. “Yeah, I’m there. You sure you want to see it again?”

Dean nodded, pursing his lips, “Me-sa thinks its-a be-in betta than this-a first- Never mind. My Jar-Jar sucks ass.”

Cas was already doubled over, laughing at him. “That was terrible,” he huffed out, “and pretty racist, I think.”

Dean nodded in agreement and smiled at Cas, catching his eye before looking back at the road.

They drove in comfortable silence for a few minutes before starting up the debate over the serious lack of strong female characters. Dean protested that Padme was a bad-ass, but relented when Cas claimed she had been reduced to a two-dimensional support role, and would have any power she did have removed when she became the love interest of the main character. Dean finally agreed and compared it to sexualizing Leia in Jedi because of the Jabba scenes and the gold bikini, happy to see the triumphant smile on Cas’ face.

Since when did he care about making someone smile like that? His stomach dropped. This was probably a bad idea.


	3. Nashville: Home of the Rhinestone Buffet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last night I saw a movie  
> and I thought about many movies I've seen at your house  
> excuse me if I'm rude  
> but I'd rather that we just strike from the record ones I'd see again without you  
> leaning on my shoulder  
> distracting me from the plotline
> 
> - _Moving Pictures_ by Fallout Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING:  
> Okay so this took a bit of a dark turn here so be sure to check this if you want to continue.
> 
> *Descriptions of past drug use  
> *9/11 Terrorist Attack  
> *Mentions of past suicide attempt  
> *Mentions of past prostitution for drugs  
> *Graphic description of failing to make it in the music business.

Nashville sits at the bend in the Cumberland river, unassuming and peaceful- a city by population standards, but ask a local and they’ll say it’s a town. There are not many places in the United States that can boast such a hometown feel in the midst of a booming music industry. Maybe Austin, Texas. 

The skyscrapers ramble across the skyline, non threateningly, only interrupted with the skeletal structure of growth- there would be a population boom perhaps in the next decade. The draw to hope and possibility had always brought people to the Southern city, handing out dreams of fame or crushing them soundly under a cowboy boot. The majority of waiters in the city always had an answer to the most common question of “are you in a band?” or “are you working on a record?” as opposed to “what church do you go to?” as was the most common question in the rest of the South. 

Music was their church. From the 1960’s beginnings of a new kind of country (Loretta Lynn, Hank Williams Senior, Roger Miller), to the Outlaw Country of the 70’s (Waylon Jennings and Willie Nelson, Merle Haggard, Johnny Cash), to the beginnings of pop country (Dolly Parton, Kenny Rogers, Randy Travis). Many prayed at its alter, many were made into gods.

Castiel’s family was just another family brought to Nashville in search of fame and notoriety. His father was a songwriter, and his mother sang backup vocals in recording sessions. After a few unsucessful years in Los Angeles, they moved the Nashville hoping to find a home on Music Row, unaware of the still true fact that you have to know someone to make it anywhere in the business. The town had always been run by the Good Ole Boys, and that wasn’t about to change. 

When Cas’ father, Chuck Shirley, died of an overdose, his mother Naomi sank into a deep depression. Being a single mom in the 80’s was difficult- they had to heavily rely on food stamps and welfare to get them through until his mom could find another vocal gig. She became more and more detached from the family, and would only communicate with Cas or his sister, Anna, by screaming at them, comparing him to his father and Anna to herself- no sense of what to be emotionally to them. 

When Anna could no longer take it, she bailed out on Cas with a sincere apology and headed back West to the coast with a bum of a boyfriend (also a musician) to see if the waters were warmer out there. He hadn’t heard from her in some time, but could hardly blame her; he wasn’t able to ever give her any good news, so what was the point of calling?

With no one watching him, Castiel basically just did whatever he wanted to. He could say he fell in with the wrong crowd, but the truth was _he_ was the wrong crowd that others fell into. He managed to graduate without trying- his teachers had encouraged him to go to art school, but he couldn’t be bothered. The rave scene hit Nashville in the late 90’s and he discovered the joy of designer drugs and techno music- a way to hide out in a manufactured world, safe from reality. He felt the drugs made him a better artist, made him more creative, opened his mind. He was able to come out and not be judged for his sexuality, and he was able to make money selling ecstasy at parties. But it was never enough. He was never enough. Life was false and stupid and the need to escape became overwhelming and then he discovered heroin. 

At first, it was just an after party thing. It helped him come down from the methamphetamine- based drugs he had taken all night, and it relaxed him. He was able to get away with being a social user for some time. But, inevitability, it drew him into its web- the physical need grew the more he built a tolerance, the withdrawal got worse, and eventually he could only afford to just buy enough to keep himself from getting sick. The high was gone. He had to do something.

There’s an expression he learned from his NA sponsor: you get to the point where you lower your standards faster than you can set them.

And he eventually erased a lot of his “yets.” He had yet to steal to buy drugs. He had yet to sleep with someone for drugs. He had yet to outright prostitute himself for drugs. He had yet to end up in jail or rehab. And then suddenly, all of those things were part of his story. He looked up one day and saw he was one of those useless homeless junkies that he would tell himself he was better than. “I may use dope, but I’m nowhere as bad off as that guy,” was a frequent mantra in the early days. 

Then one day, in 2001, it seemed like a good idea to maybe not care anymore if he overdosed. He dad had done it, why not him? It was a passive way to look at suicide, but he had lost the ability to care about himself or anyone else in the world. 

The day it happened, he was standing outside a taco truck downtown, after a long shift of walking the strip, barely making enough all night to get a fix and maybe a taco. The radio on the truck was turned up and everyone was standing around it, listening intently, or talking frantically into their cell phones. Cas ordered a breakfast burrito and stood back to try and see what he had missed. 

The man closest to him was dressed sharply in a business suit, staring in shock at nothing, hanging on limply to his briefcase. Cas stepped closer, holding his food, and caught the guy’s attention. The dude was clearly in shock, and he didn’t even notice that clearly Cas was out there on the street for very different reasons than him. He muttered a stunned reply.

“Terrorists just hit the World Trade Center with two airplanes.”

Cas furrowed his brows.

“The Twin Towers?” he asked, a bit doubtful.

The business dude just nodded and went back to blankly staring into space as the radio continued to repeat the reports as they came in. Cas shook himself and walked away. He needed to get somewhere with a television, so he headed up Charlotte to the bus station and pushed through the double doors to a disturbing sight. There was a crowd, of diverse origin, all still as statues, staring with open mouths at the tv screen. There was a thick silence and a tension in the air, as if someone was waiting for a newscaster to come on and say they were mistaken, that it had to be an accident, that no one would ever attack the securest nation on the planet. America remained loved by all, and everyone could go about their business. 

Cas shuffled slowly closer so he could read the banner flashing by at the bottom of the screen, listening to Tom Brokaw’s voice echoing through the tiled bus station.

The camera was set on the smoke billowing from the buildings, and the confusion in Tom’s voice was evident. 

Suddenly, something was happening. There were screams, some from the television, some from the room they were standing in, as the towers began to collapse- folding in on themselves and crumbling as if made hastily out of sand and washed away by a rising tide.

Castiel went cold. The people. The people were in there. He ran to the nearest trashcan and vomited up the few bites of burrito he had eaten. 

What could have been a few minutes later or a few hours later, Cas found himself sitting on a rock on the Cumberland river, rig in hand, dope spread haphazardly around him. He was looking out onto the water. 

_All those people._

Tears ran down his cheeks as he sat numb. He couldn’t remember if he knew anyone he could call- if he knew anyone who might have been in there- or anyone who might have family in there. 

Useless. He was completely useless. There was no one he could comfort, no one he could help. He couldn’t even give blood to the Red Cross, because god knows what was flowing through his bloodstream at any given time. He was overcome with self-hatred and loathing; the selfishness of his actions in the face of people who just lost everything. 

He even felt like shit for feeling like shit. Like, how dare he get to feel the devastation personally, be affected by it deeply, when he wasn’t even there? When he didn’t even have anyone in his life to care about? And no one to care about him.

So he made up his mind without needing to make up his mind. He no longer cared if he lived or died. What was the point of trying to survive if this was the world now? 

That was the beginning of the end for him. His life became a blur of using, his emotions shut down, quelling any part of himself that remained human. 

********

Castiel sat on the porch of the halfway house staring at his phone. He had finally made enough money at the coffee shop to buy one- in fact it came free with a new pay-as-you-go plan. It was exciting because he had never been able to afford a cell phone, but also that Crowley had allowed him to get one because his 90 days of house probation were up. He was able to call his sponsor whenever he wanted, and even call someone for a ride. Like Dean.

He opened up the contacts and scrolled through the six names in there. Allen PO, Charlie, Dean, Gabe, Kevin, Meg. He supposed he could put the school’s name in there too, but he’d have to wait to go to class to get the number. 

The bus was due in the next 20 minutes, and Cas had already spent the better part of the hour arguing with himself about asking Dean for a ride. He knew Dean lived nearby, and technically, Cas was on the way, but he didn’t want Dean to think he was just using him as a ride. 

And he could always ride the bus. But he kinda wanted to see Dean.

He decided it was finally time to tell his sponsor that he’d made a new friend.

He scrolled down to ‘Gabe” and hit send. It rang four times, and just as Cas had talked himself in to just hanging up because he was sure he was bothering Gabe anyway, he answered.

“Heya, kiddo,” he said, awfully cheerful for 8am on a Monday, “it’s good to finally hear from you.”

Cas snorted. “It’s only been two days, Gabe.”

“Well, an addict can get up to quite a bit of trouble in just two days,” he shot back.

Cas rolled his eyes, suddenly annoyed. “Well, nothing to report, talk to you later…”

“Nice try buck-o,” Gabe said, “give me a real update, or I’m coming over there to get it in person.”

Castiel smiled. He actually really liked that someone cared enough to give him such a hard time. He always got honesty from Gabriel, and it wasn’t always what he wanted to hear.

“Well…” Cas hesitated, “remember I told you I’d made a friend at school?”

“Yeah, Charlie, was it?”

“Yeah. So we’ve hung out and she’s really cool and…” he coughed slightly and shifted gears. “So I think I’m going to hit a meeting tonight, are you going to the book study?”

“Nice try again,” Gabe shot back, “what’s his name?”

“What?” Cas tried innocence.

There was a sigh on the other end of the call. Cas could almost hear Gabe’s smirk.

“You know it’s a bad idea to date before you have a year clean, right?” Gabe’s patience was bountiful for once.

“Hey that’s not written in any book,” Cas said, obviously reaching, “it’s really more of a suggestion, right?”

Gabe snorted. “How about you finish your steps first. If he’s still interested when your head is extracted from your ass, ask him out. If you’ve changed your mind by then and decide _not_ to inflict your character defects all over him, no harm done. Whaddaya think?”

Castiel smiled. Gabe had a talent of putting things in perspective. Hell, he didn’t even know if Dean was into guys. That would be a fine kettle of worms- trying to make a move on a guy who may not be ready was a stupid, selfish thing to do. He cringed at his self-centeredness. 

“Sure, Gabe. I’ll keep that in mind. Maybe I’ll just try and have a friend for a change. It’s been a while.”

“For real,” Gabe said, “sex doesn’t have to be an icebreaker. Or a prerequisite for a relationship. Try just hanging out. See if you even have anything in common.”

Cas had to bite his tongue to keep from gushing about the movie they went to on Friday. He probably shouldn’t say anything. It would just piss Gabe off that he didn’t tell him until now.

“Sure thing, man,” he said, trying for nonchalant, “he seems cool. Maybe we could like hang out in a group or something. Like go bowling or something.”

There was a short silence.

“You little shit, you’ve already gone out with him, haven’t you?” Gabriel chuckled, “Tell me you used a condom.”

“Jesus Christ, man, we didn’t fuck or anything, we just went to see the new _Star Wars_ movie. He’s a film student and wanted me to see how bad it was.”

Gabed hummed. “It was pretty bad, wasn’t it? Hey man,” Gabe’s tone turned serious, “I’m not your dad, I’m not your PO, I’m not your big brother. I’m just another junkie trying to get a day clean. There’s no need to hide anything from me. I’m not going to judge anything you do; I can guarantee you I’ve done it too. And I’ve stayed clean through all of it. That’s the only difference between you and me: I’ve got a few more days under my belt of doing this thing. You’re gonna fuck up. It’s par for the course. No one could expect for you to become a completely different person just because you get the drugs out of your system. But we expect it of ourselves, right? Give yourself a break. And don’t use no matter what. And call me every day. Got it?”

Cas cleared his throat, blinking at the unexpected tears in the corners of his eyes.

“Yeah,man, thanks,” Cas said, “I gotta go- the bus will be here in about five. But thanks.”

“Anytime, Castiel. Hey, I love you, man,” he said, “call me tomorrow. Or later or whatever.”

Thanks, Gabe, I love you too.” 

Cas hung up and grabbed his bag. He pocketed the brick of a cell phone and jogged to the corner just as the bus pulled up. It was probably for the best that he continue to ride the bus. He would just suck Dean into his sickness, and that wasn’t fair to him. 

“Hey Clarence!”

Cas stopped with his foot on the step to hold the bus for a second for Meg to catch up. He grinned at her as she stomped past him, flashing the driver her ID. He followed, doing the same before flopping down next to her in a seat near the back.

“Didn’t see you at the meeting last night, where were you?” Cas asked, tucking the unlit cigarette Meg just handed him behind his ear.

“Met a guy at coffee and was making out with him in the bathroom.” She grinned wickedly at him, arching an eyebrow.

Cas just shook his head at her usual antics, not really feeling concerned.

“Hope it was worth it, ‘cause Crowley noticed you were missing.” 

“Shit.”

“Shit, indeed.”

Meg ran her hands through her wild curly hair and huffed a laugh. One of the reasons Cas liked her was that nothing seemed to bother her at all. She had a laid-back quality and seemed unflappable in the face of authority. 

“Guess I’ll have to find another place to crash.” She pulled her sleeves lower over her arms and poked her thumbs through the holes she cut in the cuffs. 

Cas furrowed his brow. “I’m sure you’ll get away with it, you always manage to bend the rules and he lets you come back. So why not?”

Meg smiled her pointed little smile at him. He could see the flatness behind the facade. 

“I doubt a blowjob will soothe things over this time,” she said jovially, “even if my parents are paying him extra.”

Cas was taken aback for a second. “Since when have you been doing that? Not surprised, but ugh. Bet his weiner is funny-looking.”

Meg erupted into giggles.

“Yeah, apparently not many British dudes get clipped unless they’re Jewish. Looked like Kenny from Southpark.”

Cas was soon laughing his ass off- catching a lot of weird looks from the other passengers, especially when Meg pulled her hood on and pulled the drawstrings tight, speaking in a squeaky British accent calling herself ‘Uncle Crowley’s Willie.’ 

When the last lingering giggles dissolved, Meg leaned comfortably into Cas’ side and hummed. He rested his head on top of hers and they sat in silence for a bit.

“Meg?” Cas said quietly.

“Umgmf,” she responded without moving.

“I think I’m going to try and not-fuck Dean. You know, like try and be just friends.”

She sat up to look him in the face. A slow smile spread from the corner of her mouth and she huffed out a short laugh.

“Good for you, Clarence,” she said, “you must really like this guy.”

Cas quirked a smile and looked out the window.

Meg cuddled back into his side, sighing. “Well good luck, then, because he’s going to have a hard time keeping his hands off your hot little tookis.” 

Cas nudged her with his knee, barely hearing her mumble something about unicorns. He really loved her. She didn’t seem to give a fuck about the world, but had made time in her life to give a damn about Cas. He found it significant when he managed to befriend the unfriendable. Like, it made him feel special, like he had a secret passport to her secret heart. It felt real and was a rush, to feel close to someone. It was probably the feeling he was looking for when he would sleep with people, but never found. Intimacy was a heady drug. It made him feel _needed._

His thoughts turned back to Dean. That guy held a lot of secrets. He had handled Cas blurting out his largest flaws rather gracefully. He had even opened the door just a crack, allowed Cas to see a little more. 

And the Cas had to stick his foot in his mouth and make a suggestive comment about the backseat. He cringed just thinking about it. He had to remind himself sometimes not to confuse reality with porn. It wasn’t like Dean would have growled at him and tossed him over the front seat and pinned him into the leather of the backseat, fucking him hard, sweat pouring off of them, fogging the windows…

A shudder ran through Cas. Meg popped her sleepy head up and eyed him. 

“Stop thinking about him, you’re messin up my nap.”

Cas smiled and pulled his headphones out of his bag, turning on his iPod that Meg gave him for his birthday. Fallout Boy poured into his ear and he closed his eyes too, relaxing for a few more minutes before he started his long day of classes and work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have a beta and am lazy about editing, so there you have it. 
> 
> If you were looking for a smut fix, you're going to have to wait. If you can't wait, go to my page and read Personal Space. Ridiculous gratuitous smutfest. I'm shit at html and can't be bothered to learn (so lazy) but here's a link to copy and paste.  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/7315582/chapters/16615804


	4. Dean Wants to Ride a Unicorn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey handsome,” Meg said easily as Dean plopped down on the step next to her, “gonna take my boy out on a date?”
> 
> Dean flushed and his thumb slipped off the striker of his lighter, flinging it halfway across the yard.
> 
> “It’s not a...I mean we’re not like- I mean I’m not-”
> 
> Meg giggled and waved him off, holding out her lighter. 
> 
> “Just fucking with you man, calm down,” she said, arching her eyebrow knowingly. “Cas said the same thing in the exact same way.”
> 
> “Really?” Dean said too quickly, hoping the disappointment didn’t bleed into his voice, “I uh, we’re just friends, you know, from school, we ah. Yeah,” he finished lamely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To quote Thatusernameistaken: "Poor Dean. You're gonna love him. You're gonna bang him. It's destiny. Enjoy it."
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS:
> 
> *Homophobia- internalized and external (major douchebaggery)  
> *Alcoholic John  
> *Liberal use of Axe body spray  
> *Intense hugging

Sam slammed the door as he came in, startling Dean out of his accidental nap at the table. He looked down at the small puddle of drool on its surface and wrinkled his nose, wiping it off with his sleeve. Sam had a sheepish look on his face which was quickly replaced by a bright grin.

“Guess what, Dean?”

Dean tried to hide the smile that was tugging at the corners of his mouth. He loved it when Sammy got this excited.

“I got first chair!” he exclaimed gleefully, “I wasn’t sure I’d even get there on time- but I did and I played and I got it, I got it!”

Dean watched in amusement as Sam danced around the room rather clumsily with his cello. He was growing at an accelerated speed, and Dean made a mental note to take the kid pants shopping soon. His cuffs were slowly retreating from the tops of his shoes and were threatening to become high-waters. 

“Way to go Sammy,” he said, “want to go out to eat and celebrate? We could hit Demos and get a steak or something.”

Sam wrinkled his nose. “Maybe not. Can we go to Coco’s? They have a hummus plate that’s pretty good…”

He looked away quickly, and started shuffling his cello and backpack into the corner of the living room space. 

A smile crept slowly across Dean’s face, as he inspected Sam’s sudden shift in behavior.

“Jess is going to be there, isn’t she?”

Sam’s face flared red as he turned back to Dean.

“Yeah, but please don’t embarrass me, she sort of invited me, but I don’t want her to think I’m following her there like a puppy.”

Jess was a girl Sammy had been interested since he was a freshman at Hume Fogg, the academic magnet school for gifted children. She was very intelligent, beautiful, and was very sweet to his brother. Dean had been sure Sam would have made a move by then, seeing how they had been dancing around it for three years, but his brother was sensitive under all that puppy-like energy, and he found it hard to get close to anyone. But Jess had infinite patience, and Dean was aware she never dated anyone but opted to hang out with his little brother when they were able to get away from the constant studying and after-school activities their college prep school demanded. She was headed to Ivy League, and Dean was pleased to tell anyone who would listened that his brother was too. He had scored extremely well on his pre-test SAT’s, and did it all with a casual attitude because it came so easily. He even had started to tutor a few kids after school to help boost their scores. 

Dean couldn’t be prouder of his little brother. In fact, it was Sammy who had encouraged him to apply to film school- saying that he didn’t have to be a mechanic all his life if he didn’t want to. They had the money; when his mom died, they were left with a substantial chunk of change specifically earmarked for college. It had been set up in trust so that it couldn’t be cashed out by anyone, including their own father. It wasn’t as if their mother knew that their dad would become a drunk after she died, she had set it up like that to ensure her children would have a future.

Thank god for small favors. Dean wondered how different their lives would be if the money had been available to his father before sammy and him graduated high school. Most likely, he would have drank it away. He might have surprised them all and gotten sober and they would have had a more normal life. But it was a life of moving from one slum to another, getting kicked out by landlords for not paying rent, leaving in the middle of the night, sometimes without even getting their stuff first. Just so they could end up in another dump in a shady part of Nashville, sometimes having to wait a few weeks for the power to get turned on. Those were the bad days- the days when his dad would be drunk and cursing his mom for not leaving him the money, then drunk and crying to his mom to forgive him for saying that. Then he’d pass out and Dean would sit in his bed listening to his father breathe and struggling to stay awake in case he stopped so Dean could wake him up. His dad was pathetic on good days, but he still loved him and knew he was doing the best he could. 

Which was still shit. So the day Dean turned 18, he announced to his father that he was taking Sammy and they were going to rent an efficiency near downtown so Sam would be near the community music school, and Dean could walk to work at Uncle Bobby’s shop. He was pretty surprised that John didn’t put up a fight at all. It seemed the old guy had finally run out of steam and checked himself into the VA hospital to get sober. Dean had been so hopeful that his dad would quit drinking for good, but it was just the first in a long line of hospitalizations for his alcoholism, and a string of DUI’s. But Sammy was safe, and that was all Dean could care about. He had long since mourned his father; accepting that one day the next time he would see him would be in a pine box. It was easier that way. 

It was the summer after Dean’s 20th birthday when he got the call from the emergency room. His dad had wrapped his car around a telephone pole while driving on a suspended licence. He wasn’t injured badly- just a few stitches on his forehead. But the car he almost hit wasn’t as lucky. The guy had swerved and landed in a ditch, rolling his car. He was in a coma, and the outcome would decide whether John Winchester would be charged with homicide or not. He had been locked up since and was waiting for the guy to wake up. It was a relief to know his dad was in one spot and couldn’t drink, and they went to visit him occasionally, bring him money for the commissary. They would talk about the good times and update him on the latest things happening in their lives. Dean could see the sadness behind his dad’s eyes and the guilt. He wanted so badly to make his dad feel better, but he never seemed to know what to say. His dad had given him the squashed-up Impala with an earnest smile saying he knew if anyone could fix her up, Dean could. 

It was about a year later when the acceptance letter from Watkins School of Design and Film came. He had kept his application under wraps until he knew for sure; the thought of disappointing Sammy or Bobby or even dad was too daunting. It was also easier to pretend it didn’t matter to him when he kept it a secret. 

Bobby had been thrilled and gave him a raise so Sam and he could upgrade to a larger apartment. He also changed his shifts to accommodate his school schedule. Things had settled down enough for life to actually feel normal for the first time ever. 

It made Dean happy to see Sam happy. He wanted his brother to have everything he deserved, and worked hard to make sure he had it. Sam was always grateful. He was very aware at too young an age as to what was happening around him, and he never took what Dean did for him for granted. 

Dean watched his brother dash around changing his shirt and applying body spray, stopping him when the awful Axe smell began to overpower the apartment. They were out the door by six and headed to Cafe Coco, a small 24-hour cafe in downtown where high school kids were allowed to hang out until 11pm before it became 18 and up. It was a safe-haven for the myriad of subcultures that dotted the Nashville landscape at the beginning of the 21st century. 

Emo kids, punks, goths, the younger gay crowd, and college students. There was an AA clubhouse nearby, so there were the recovery people too. It was an interesting atmosphere, and there wasn’t anything else even close to it in the entire city. They had coffee, fancy coffee, pasta, sandwiches, really good crinkle fries and burgers. They sold bottled beer when they had shows on the back porch- usually open-mic poetry, local bands, crappy stand-up, and whatever weird thing the owner, Kali, would allow. She was cool and had a great relationship with the local cops, so the place was always safe and looked after. In exchange for all the coffee they could drink, of course.

They headed over in the Impala and spent a good 15 minutes for Dean to find a parking spot he felt was safe enough to park Baby without her getting damaged. He had made the mistake of parking her in a tow zone once, so he was overly careful. 

Sam looked like he was coming out of his skin.

“Jesus, Dean just park!” he said rolling his eyes dramatically.

“Keep your pants on, Sammy,” Dean said, rounding the corner for what might have been the fifth time, “you want to just hop out and get us a table?”

Sam was out the car door before Dean could even finish his question.

“Okay, Dean, thanks!” Sam said smiling, “and don’t call me Sammy.”

Dean chuckled and pulled off to circle again. He caught sight of Bobby’s truck in the side lot, which was unusual, it normally took an act of Congress to get him to come in there with all the kids. He suspected it might have to do with Jodi’s police cruiser pulled up in the no parking zone by the door. Bobby had a thing for her, and so far had only managed to be awkward around her when she came by the shop to get her personal car worked on. This was progress. He’d leave Bobby alone for the time being, but he sure was going to fuck with him at work the next day.

Dean pulled Baby into a spot about two blocks away from the cafe entrance. It was a nice night, so he didn’t mind the walk. He passed a few music venues which were not exactly crowded on a school night, but there were a fair amount of people. The marquee declared the obscure band name- some fly-by-night group that would change its name when the members inevitably got in a fight and split up. Dean had seen it a few times first hand in high school. He had a fair voice for singing southern rock, so he was frontman a few times. Egos always flared, especially when it came to money, and the band would fall apart after a couple of gigs they played for free. Dean never really cared to join the drama, so he was content to shrug off the whole ordeal. He had bigger problems than that in those days. He never sang his own songs, but he hung on to them and stashed them in his closet. No one, not even Sam, had seen that notebook full of chicken scratch poetry; the printed word of the secrets tattooed onto Dean’s heart. It was for him and no one else.

Dean walked under the ivy archway to the front patio. There were a metal tables crammed into a small space, with less chairs than people. There were Christmas lights hanging amongst the ivy-covered ceiling and the jukebox was playing a Journey song. Dean grinned and hummed along to _Don’t Stop Believin’_ while looking for his brother.

Sam had already located a table of his high school nerd friends. They were loud and rowdy all hopped up on too much caffeine. Sam had managed to wedge himself on the end of the bench at a wood table right next to Jess. He was smiling at her like she hung the moon, and if Jess wasn’t the perfect match for Sam that she was, he would make fun of him for being too eager. But it was about time those two made it official. 

Dean caught Sammy and gave him a subtle thumbs up which earned him a grin and a wave. He decided to leave the kid alone- having Dean there would be as embarrassing as a dad showing up at a prom. So he went to stand in line to get a latte.

The cafe was busy, as it always was at that time of night, and the line was moving slowly. Dean was content to people watch; the parade of emo kids bopping through there was good entertainment. He sow Bobby and Jodi in a corner talking- Bobby looking highly out of his comfort zone- and Jodi was touching his arm. Dean turned his attention to the chalkboard on the wall and considered ordering a fancy coffee. He never got one, but always liked to look.

“Order up!” called a familiar growly voice from behind the counter.

Dean whipped around and caught the briefest glance of messy brown hair stuffed into a baseball cap as it disappeared into the kitchen. He was positive it was Cas. He had said he was a cook, but had failed to mention where. 

A smile tugged at the corner of Dean’s mouth as he replayed going to the movies with Cas once again. 

********

It was around 2pm when he pulled up to a shabby two-story house in East Nashville. He was familiar with the neighborhood- he had lived in a crappy duplex down the street for a few months when he was ten. The porch was littered with cigarette butts, empty soda bottles, and overflowing ashtrays. There were a couple of prison-swole dudes sitting in the sun eyeing Dean suspiciously. He called out to them to ask if Cas was home. They stayed mute; instead choosing to glare at him mistrustfully.

“He’s inside,” came a distinctively female voice from the house next door, “just bang on the door.”

Dean spun and smiled at the girl sitting on the steps of the equally shabby house next door- complete with chair and ashtray accessories. She was dressed in torn jeans and had a mane of black curls and a sharp smirk on her lips. Dean couldn’t see her eyes behind her sunglasses. She was smoking. 

“Thanks,” he said, turning back to the door and doing just that. 

The door swung open almost instantly, almost causing Dean to knock directly on Cas’ forehead. Cas yelped in surprise, then grinned when he met Dean’s eyes. 

“Hey! You’re here,” he said, eyes sparkling, in what Dean hoped was excitement.

“Yeah,” Dean said, fighting a smile that crept up as he almost got lost in those deep blue eyes. They stared at one another maybe a touch too long before Dean cleared his throat and took a step back blushing slightly.

“Shall we?” Dean winced at the cheesy line- in his mind adding _m’lady._

Cas felt the pockets of his snug black jeans and furrowed his brows. 

“Yeah, just a sec- I think I left my phone- I’ll be right back. Hey Meg,” Cas waved at the girl on the steps as he retreated to grab his phone, “this is Dean…” 

Dean smiled at Meg and gave a short wave. If they were friends, Dean thought it would be safe to go smoke with her while waiting for Castiel to reappear. Those other guys at the end of the porch sure didn’t look in the mood for conversation. 

“Hey handsome,” Meg said easily as Dean plopped down on the step next to her, “gonna take my boy out on a date?”

Dean flushed and his thumb slipped off the striker of his lighter, flinging it halfway across the yard.

“It’s not a...I mean we’re not like- I mean I’m not-”

Meg giggled and waved him off, holding out her lighter. 

“Just fucking with you man, calm down,” she said, arching her eyebrow knowingly. “Cas said the same thing in the exact same way.”

“Really?” Dean said too quickly, hoping the disappointment didn’t bleed into his voice, “I uh, we’re just friends, you know, from school, we ah. Yeah,” he finished lamely.

“Well I don't know why,” she said, smirking wickedly, “it doesn’t get much hotter than that. You’d be lucky to find a boy with that body and face to match who’s cool as shit anywhere else in this city. Fuckin’ hot as hell. Good lay too.”

Dean started. “You and he…”

 

Meg laughed.

“No honey, sad to say he’s not interested in what I have to offer. Shame really, cause I’d fuck him blind, given the chance.”

Dean snorted something between incredulous and funny.

Meg’s smile softened as she regarded him, her voice dropping.

“He’s really something though,” she said, sounding almost wistful, “my unicorn. But he isn’t really mine. Lucky guy who gets to keep him.”

She looked over Dean’s shoulder as she spoke, causing him to turn. Cas was walking toward them, squinting his black lined eyes at the bright sun. 

“Meg, you’re not telling all my secrets, are you?” Cas said in a mock stern voice.

She gave him a sweet innocent smile and stood to hug him goodbye.

“Have fun, boys,” she said in her smooth lilt again, “use protection!”

“Meg!” Cas admonished her, but she was already laughing and ducking back into her house and slamming the door.

Dean could swear he saw a bit of blush on Cas’ neck as he mumbled an apology for his friend.

“Actually, I kind of like her,” Dean said, “seems like a little spitfire. She had lots of nice things to say about you.”

Cas barked a laugh. “Yeah, I bet she did.”

“No, seriously, she thinks highly of you,” Dean countered.

Cas hummed in surprise and looked at the door.

“She’s a good friend. Those are hard to come by on the streets.” 

Dean wasn’t sure what that meant, so he turned and led the way back to the Impala, unlocking and opening Cas’ door. The guys on the porch were glancing over and talking in low voices. Cas got in and stared straight ahead stiffly as Dean eased the car back onto the street.

“Who were those guys? And why are they being assholes?” Dean asked.

Cas sighed and squirmed in his seat.

“Just some homophobic rednecks that live in the house,” came his answer finally. 

“Oh. Sorry.” Dean was unsure how to respond.

Cas shot him a grateful smile and changed the subject.

“So any interesting previews when you saw _Attack of the Clones_ the first time? Because if the movie is as bad as you say, at least I can look forward to trailors.”

Dean laughed, relaxing into his seat. He liked Cas. As the conversation went on, Dean began to feel a fluttering sensation in his gut. Almost like he was excited.

********

Dean was feeling it in his gut again. Like a light rolling, not sick-feeling, but something more pleasant. Butterflies? No, that was stupid. He had to just be hungry.

He finally made it to the counter and ordered his usual- a large latte, one squirt of vanilla. He also ordered his usual cheeseburger and fries. The barista was the blonde one (maybe Donna?) and she smiled her giant infectious smile and turned and stuck the ticket in the window. Dean pulled his wallet out to pay.

“Dean?”

Dean looked up, smiling widely at a surprised Cas who was holding his ticket. 

“Hey man,” he said casually as the butterflies in his stomach took tiny shots of Red Bull, “how’s it going?”

Cas grinned back at him.

“Let me get your order done, and I’ll take my break,” he said, turning and disappearing before Dean could answer. 

Dean took his number and walked down the hall and out the back door to the back porch. It was covered by a roof, but open air. It was a weeknight, so it was fairly empty and much quieter than the social club meeting and fashion show going on on the front patio. Dean took his phone out and played Tetris while he waited.

Cas backed through the backdoor balancing two plates and two glasses of water. His focus was held on the water, and Dean’s breath caught in his throat.

The man was beautiful. His hat was gone, and his hair was especially wild. He was still wearing an apron with a towel hanging from the tie, and his plain black t shirt hugged his biceps. He wasn’t wearing his usual eyeliner and had on a pair of loose cotton maroon dress pants. The ends were cuffed and still dragging the floor. His cheeks were flushed with the heat from the kitchen (Dean assumed), and his tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth with concentration. He deposited the plates on the table and practically threw himself into his chair.

“Whew! You came right on time, man,” he said, grinning at his food, “I’m starving, need a smoke, and am worn-the-fuck-out; I’ve been on my feet for a most of the day. Didn’t help that I was in painting for three hours before my shift and Rufus expects us to stand at our easels.”

Dean stared at him blankly as he babbled and neatly folded his napkin and placed it on his lap. Cas finally looked up at Dean. He must have had a strange look on his face, because Cas stopped and quirked a brow.

“I got something on my face?” he teased.

Dean cleared his throat and laughed, “Naw, man, just um... nothing. So you made these?” he asked, indicating the burgers in front of them.

“Uh-huh,” Cas said, picking his up, “hope you don’t mind a little bacon, ‘cause I hooked it up.”

 

Dean took a huge bite and moaned around it. It was Heaven plus bacon.

“I fucking love you,” he said, eyes closed, “incredible. Bacon is the shit-” 

His eyes flew open, mortified at when he had just said.

Cas’ was regarding him with unabashed amusement.

“Well, that was easy,” he teased, “found your weakness, and now I will destroy you.”

He punctuated his statement by taking a big bite as well.

Dean was trying not to burst into flames in embarrassment. Cas handled the slip with grace, and Dean should just brush it off. Why was this banter even bothering him? He joked around with Kevin all the time- he was Kevin’s unofficial Sugar Daddy (he literally split candy bars with him in editing class every other day), and it was fun and teasing. Because he wasn’t attracted to Kevin, and Kevin was obsessed with a senior named Andy, it was all in fun.

Wait, did this mean he was attracted to Cas?

Dean screamed silently in his head as he smiled at Cas while they discussed school and classes and what the latest gossip on the faculty was. Just the usual. But with a major internal panic attack happening. 

All Dean could think about was his father telling him it wasn’t natural, God created Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve, and about 20 other stupid homophobic phrases. None were directed at Dean specifically, but they sure let him know where being gay stood with his dad. Not unusual for a Vietnam veteran who was raised in a Southern Baptist household until his own father disappeared. Even when Dean’s mom died, and John swore he would never set foot in a church again, he still spouted the same slurs.

The door to the porch burst open, expelling a very excited Sam, who bounced over to Dean and Cas’ table. 

“Hey Dean,” he said, eyes sparkling, “can I have a few bucks so I can buy Jess a coffee? Oh, hi.”

Cas had his chin resting in his hand, and waved back with a small amused smile.

“Sammy,” said Dean, “this is Cas- Cas, Sammy, Sammy, Cas.”

They nodded at each other and shared a smile at Dean’s overly formal introduction. Dean pulled his wallet out.

“Here,” he said, handing him two twenties, “buy her dinner too. That’ll earn you some points.”

Sam lit up and grabbed his brother in a brief hug and danced back over to the door. He paused and came back over.

“Whaddaya need now, Sammy, a condom?” Dean said, happily embarassing his little brother in front of his new friend.

“Dean!” Sam squeaked, looking around, “I’m not- I mean, shut up!” He breathed and calmed himself.

“I was going to ask if Jess’ mom could give me a ride home?”

Dean laughed and nodded, “just be home before 10.”

Sam gave him another hug and practically ran from the porch yelling thank you.

Cas had a thoughtful look on his face during the whole exchange.

“You really take care of him, don’t you,” Cas said softly.

Dean looked down self-consciously. “Yeah, someone has to, I guess.”

He looked up into the laser focus of Cas’ eyes. There was a softness there, but no pity. Dean found himself caught there and they stared maybe a little too long until Cas’ watch beeped.

“Oh, shit,” he said, “guess I gotta get back to work.”

He stood and Dean stood with him. He automatically stepped forward for a hug, before he realized they hadn’t done that before. But it would be weird to suddenly back off. Dean hugged all of his friends anyway- and if Cas was in recovery, and those people practically hang off one another, he was used to hugs too, so it shouldn’t be a big deal, he told himself. 

But it kinda was.

Cas wrapped his arms around Dean’s shoulders for a gentle squeeze and he instinctively slipped his hands around Cas’ waist to his lower back. It was definitely way over the line into intimacy, but he couldn’t make himself pull away. Dean was only an inch or two taller, and their chins fit over each other’s shoulders perfectly. Dean turned his head slightly, catching a whiff of kitchen grease, dish soap, sandalwood, shampoo and a little sweat, distinctly manly. He let it flood his senses, closing his eyes briefly, the way he did with the first bite of the burger Cas cooked especially for him. He felt Cas run a hand further up his back until it rested gently on the back of his neck. _Definately_ intimate, but Dean couldn’t make himself care. It felt really good, comfortable but those butterflies returned and oh boy, they brought friends and were having a rave party in his belly, getting down to the quickened beat of his pulse. 

Cas was the first to step back, giving Dean a strange look as their eyes met.

“Bye Dean, be safe,” he said softly.

“Yeah, you too, Cas,” Dean heard himself say. He stood in the same spot, not moving, feeling the loss of warmth as Cas backed away and flashed a smile and walked back to the kitchen holding their empty plates. 

Dean remained still for a moment, considering what had just happened. He shook himself, pulled his keys out, and practically ran off the porch and through the side parking lot, cutting through the buildings to get to his car. He was panting when he reached there, but he couldn’t shake the buzzing sensation all along his body where he was in contact with Cas. Especially the back of his neck. It tingled with the fingerprints left there. Dean felt heat in his belly as he squealed out of the lot and on to the main road to home. 

Later, he stood in the shower, holding his softened cock in his hand, heaving breaths and wobbling knees, watching an impressive load of come wash down the drain. 

_From a hug._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bless Dean's lil' ole pea pickin' heart.
> 
> Looks promising, right? Do you feel cheated because you missed Dean giving himself a secret handshake?   
> Fear not, for I am the Queen of Masturbation Scenes, and I got you.


	5. In Which Cas Wants to Have Dean's Kittens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Here, sleepyhead,” he said, letting her lean tiredly on him, “let’s get you back to your dorm.”
> 
> “I wish you could just crash here,” Charlie said, “I’d feel better if you didn’t catch the late bus that takes you through downtown. Arg! I need a car.”
> 
> Cas smiled at her sweet concern.
> 
> “Honey, I live across the street from a crack house,” he said, “and that’s a nice neighborhood in East Nashville.”
> 
> “Whatever, just text your house manager and tell him you have to just stay until morning.”
> 
> Cas shook his head. “That will just land me another couple of drug screens, and let me tell you, peeing while an ex-con looks at your dick isn’t as big a turn-on as it sounds.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To feel inspired about life go [here](http://slugette.deviantart.com/art/Dean-and-Impala-491109716) to see a beautiful painting by user slugette.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING:
> 
> *Relapse  
> *Violence against a woman referenced but not described  
> *She blames herself  
> *It hurts my heart I'm very sorry  
> *Imagery of Chuck overdosing

It wasn’t long before Cas was able to adjust to student life. He made it to class on time, saw his PO when he was supposed to, worked steps with his sponsor, and worked at the cafe. The structure around him which once would have felt so confining now afforded him time and resources to do what he loved best: paint. 

Watkins art college was a remodeled movie theater in north Nashville. It sat on a swampy area near the river, and had been at one time considered protected wetlands. But seeing as ducks and turtles, cute as they are, don’t earn any revenue, allowances were made, palms were greased, and they started to build on the land. The pathetic compromise was to place ‘no fishing’ and ‘duck crossing’ signs around the ponds.

The idea was an outdoor mall, where each individual store could be accessed from the outside. Not quite a strip mall because of the food court and courtyard. They had made the roof of the colossal building bright turquoise, and after it died in the early 90’s, Fountain Square mall maintained only a few shops and its movie theater. Then, of course, most malls in Nashville died under the rise of big box superstores. The movie theater lost a lot of business when there was no other reason to be out there, so it went belly up and the building was bought and remodeled by Watkins. 

They kept a theater- it was a film school after all, but most were converted space for wood and metal shops, classrooms, darkrooms, computer labs, and studio space for students.

Cas was thrilled to learn that he would own a little cubicle in the high-ceiling room for a semester. If he continued to need it, it was his. It was the first time he had ever had a space of his own to paint in. He grew up in a very unsupportive household (putting it lightly), and was never located anywhere long enough to set up an easel for an extended period of time. There were a few undersides of bridges that could themselves be considered permanent galleries of his work, but nothing like what he had now. 

It was maybe only 15 square feet. One side was a concrete wall, and the remaining sides were two rolling temporary walls, built by students god-knows-when. They were old, but perfect, and had the remnants of decades of inspiration collages glued to them. Cas had run his fingers over them when he saw them. The instructor gave him permission to paint over them, or scrape them off, but he followed that up with saying the other students had always thought the scraps of ideas held good mojo and kept them there for luck. Cas smiled, already knowing he would treat this art residue with reverence. He would often stare at the bits of magazine and marker graffiti, the paint store swatches, splatters of color, wax, masking tape with names on it, and creative little characters made by gluing mismatched magazine body parts together. They inspired him to stay weird.

The last few weeks seemed to fly by, and finals were coming up. He had been so busy that he felt lucky to get a few hours in the studio outside of class. It took some negotiation, but Crowley extended his curfew so he could come in at night to work. The school had late hours and if you wanted to use the studios, it was fine, as long as you locked up afterward. 

Cas was deep into his work when he heard the door open. He couldn’t pull his eyes away, so he waited to see who it was that had joined him. 

“Hey Cas,” piped Charlie, “I wondered if I’d find you in here.”

“Hey yourself,” Cas responded dreamily, still not turning away from his work. 

Charlie walked over and turned the volume down on the Pixies album blaring through the little boom box in the middle of the room. She flopped down in the frumpy little upholstered chair Cas had found by the dumpster and sighed.

Cas grinned at his painting. It was turning out just the way he had hoped. He finally turned to Charlie and dropped his brush in a jar of paint thinner. She smiled back at him.

“It’s beautiful, Cas,” Charlie said, “has he seen it yet?”

“No, and I’d appreciate it if you kept this on the down low a little longer if you would please.” Cas smirked. 

Charlie let out an agonized groan. “But it’s so haaaaaard,” she whined, “he’s my best friend.”

“I thought I was your best friend,” shot back Cas.

“And you could be,” Charlie said brightly, “if you just let him seeeee it.” 

She pulled on his arm until he landed in her lap and wound around her in a cuddle. Charlie was very touchy feely, and Cas was very grateful for it. He often felt touch-starved, and contact with her was very soothing. 

She stroked his back lazily. He twisted to look at the painting. It was from a photograph Charlie had taken earlier in the year, when it had started cooling down in the evenings. It featured the Impala, sleek and long, with Dean leaning against it in the setting sun. He had take some artistic licence with the background; adding a long straight highway disappearing into the distance. Dean is looking away, pose relaxed and thoughtful. Cas had been working hard to capture the moment so well translated through Charlie’s skill. He was pretty close to finished, and Charlie was bullying him to let Dean see it before it was turned in for a grade. Cas wanted to wait and give it to him for Christmas. He hadn’t given out presents before, so this year was especially important. He already had gifts for Charlie (he wouldn’t tell her what it was, even when she threatened to steal his eyeliner), Kevin, and even Sam. Dean’s little brother had really taken to him; inviting him over for diner frequently, and he even went to one of his orchestra recitals. He could tell Dean was happy to have the company for Sam’s school stuff- he always seemed so uncomfortable around the other parents. But Cas was happy to be there and not long after, Sam named him an unofficial Winchester. Dean blushed when this happened and hid a smile as he wrestled Sam into a headlock calling him a dork. 

“You hear from Meg yet?” 

Charlie’s question broke him out of his musings. 

“No, not yet,” he sighed, “I’m not really worried, though. She does this all the time, and says she does it to get her parent’s attention. She’ll be back. Most likely after another trip to rehab.”

Charlie nodded, and Cas knew she didn’t know what to say to that. She was really good at being supportive even though she had no frame of reference. 

Cas pried himself from her arms and pulled her up.

“Here, sleepyhead,” he said, letting her lean tiredly on him, “let’s get you back to your dorm.”

“I wish you could just crash there,” Charlie said, “I’d feel better if you didn’t catch the late bus that takes you through downtown. Arg! I need a car.”

Cas smiled at her sweet concern.

“Honey, I live across the street from a crack house,” he said, “and that’s a nice neighborhood in East Nashville.”

“Whatever, just text your house manager and tell him you have to just stay until morning.”

Cas shook his head. “That will just land me another couple of drug screens, and let me tell you, peeing while an ex-con looks at your dick isn’t as big a turn-on as it sounds.”

Charlie snorted out a laugh as they exited the back of the building and ran through the cold November wind to the single standing dorm building. There had been plans to build a few more, but they had to wait for permits or something. Cas was hoping a spot would open up so he could move in after the semester. It would sure relieve a lot of his problems.

They took the stairs two at a time, and Charlie shivered as she jammed her key into the lock to the third floor common area. It was deserted except for Kevin, who was laying across a large sketchbook, snoring loudly. Cas kicked his chair. 

“Kev, wake up,” he said, “get in bed. You have class early tomorrow.”

Kevin looked up blearily and smiled. 

“Are you my angel of fine arts, come to help me with this stupid drawing for stupid drawing class?”  
Cas rolled his eyes and grabbed Kevin’s arm and lifted the smaller kid over his shoulder. 

“You get to bed, young man, you’re done for the night. I’m sure you won’t fail because- eeeuhg.”

Cas stopped and pulled a face at what Kevin had been working on. Drawing was a prerequisite class, and all students had to take it. Even film ones. Cas and Charlie spent a fair amount of time helping Dean and Kevin with their half-assed attempts at drawing and color theory projects. 

“Hey man,” Kevin said, twisting backwards from Cas’ shoulder, “that a self-portrait.”

“Yes it is, sweetie, and it’s very nice,” said Charlie, patting his head, “now go to sleep.” 

Cas bit back a smile. He freaking loved his friends.

 

********

It was almost one in the morning when Cas’ phone buzzed. He had been standing at the bus stop for about 20 minutes wishing he had another layer when the call came in. He stilled his chattering teeth the best he could and pulled his glove off with his teeth to answer.

“Cas?” came a slurred voice, “Cas I need you to come get me.”

“Meg?” Cas gripped the phone closer to his ear. “Meg where are you? Tell me where you are.”

“Mmm not real sure Clarence, seemed like a party. Now I’m wandering around the park and can’t go back to the bar. Pissed off Alistair one time too many.”

Alistair was who Meg usually ended up with when she relapsed. He was a giant asshole, and Cas suspected he hit her, but there was no making Meg do anything. Cas made sure not to judge Meg too harshly for fear it would push her away. And sometimes it became evident that he was all she had. Like this instance.

“Meg, go hide in the sunken garden cave. No one will bother you there. It’s cold, you need to get out of the wind.”

“But I want to stand on the stairs where Oedipus and Antigone worshiped the fair maiden of war and wisdom.”

Cas squeezed the bridge of his nose. Meg was really high. 

“Meg, if the five-oh catches you on the steps of the Parthenon, you’ll go to jail for sure. Just get down and walk to the other side of the pond...remember the garden? From that walk we took?”

Somehow Cas could tell she was nodding yes.

“Just go and wait for me there. Don’t talk to anyone. Not to get a cigarette, not anything, you hear me?”

 

“Sure, sure, Clarence,” she said sighing, “don’t get your panties in a bunch. It’s really pretty out here.”

“Just go to the garden, okay? I’ll be there soon.”

Meg ended the call and Cas stood for a few moments longer, calculating the time it would take to change busses downtown and if Meg would be okay. He even considered calling an ambulance, but it would just piss Meg off and push her further away from him. 

There was only one last solution. 

“Fuck.” 

Cas scrolled to Dean’s number and hesitated. Would he get mad if Cas asked for a ride to get his loaded friend in a park at 1am? Probably. But would he do it anyway? Definitely. Dean would never let a girl alone in the park in the middle of the night. He was too old-school gentleman. 

Cas hit send and listened for the ring as he jogged away from the bus stop, praying for Dean to answer. He picked up on the third ring.

“Hello? Cas?” came a sleepy-Dean voice, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine, Dean, I’m so sorry to call so late like this but I uh…” he paused and felt guilt for drawing Dean into his drama, “Meg is stuck at the park and has no ride, and can you-”

 

“Are you still at school?” Dean asked, cutting him off.

“Yeah.”

“I’m on my way.”

Dean hung up as Cas reached the school lobby and pushed through the doors. He felt relief on so many levels. Dean was awesome. Not many people would just jump up and help a friend of a friend like that. He probably should have mentioned she was high.

******

Dean and Cas pulled up in the small lot on the north side of Centennial Park, and parked, turning out the headlights. The park was closed, so Cas would have to be stealthy. Dean was going to remain with the car so it could stay running and warm while Cas went to get Meg. It was a really short walk, so Cas estimated a five minute turnaround and they could be on their way. 

But of course, Meg was passed out.

Cas tried waking her, and got very little reaction. He pulled his glove off with his teeth and held a palm to her face and forehead. Ice cold. She was breathing, but shallowly.

He pulled out his cell.

“Dean? I’m sorry, again, but she’s passed out and I can’t drag her to the car. Too heavy.”

There was a grunt of affirmation and Cas heard the Impala shut off in the distance. It took a few minutes, but Cas finally heard the footsteps approaching, crunching through dry leaves.

Dean looked angry.

Cas winced and offered Dean to carry Meg’s arms. Instead, Dean grabbed her legs, and they hauled her out of the hibernating flower garden and across the grass to the car. Once they laid her down in the back, they got in and Dean started the car up. And he was quiet.

“Dean, I-”

“It’s okay, Cas, it’s not you,” Dean said, sighing and covering his eyes, “it’s just that I once. I once had to drag John out of that exact spot once after he got sauced at the bar over there. I’m betting that’s where Meg came from. I’m just- Bad memories and shit.”

He looked a bit embarrassed, which broke Cas’ heart in two.

“Dean, if I had known,” Cas placed his hand soothingly on Dean’s knee, “I would have tried to call someone else-”

“No Cas, no, I want you to call me- I mean I like when you call- I mean when I can help you…”

Dean’s eyes were glued to where Cas was touching him.

Cas snatched his hand back. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Aw My Gawd, get a room already,” came a slurring voice from the backseat, “just go on and get it over with. In fact, don’t get a room, just do it here and let me watch.”

“Meg!” exclaimed Cas, “what the fuck? Are you okay? What did you take? Do you need me to call anyone?

“Calm down, Clarence, don’t get your feathers ruffled, I’m fine. Too much whiskey and Xanax. No biggie. Jus’ need a lil’ trip to the ER and get this arm looked at.”

“Arm?” asked Dean, twisting in his seat, and taking a look. He peeled back her coat sleeve. She hissed in pain.

“Oh, yeah that’s fucked.” Dean said decisively, “we need to get you to Vandy.”

“Awww, Clarence, your boyfriend is trying to have me committed,” she whined and stuck her lip out before dissolving into giggles.

“Did he do this?” Cas asked, voice suddenly low and dangerous.

“I fell,” Meg stated seriously, before snorting and bursting into laughter again. Cas’ eyes darkened and Dean’s knuckles turned white on the steering wheel.

“Meg, it isn’t funny, he shouldn’t do that to you. You need to have him arrested. Or let me kill him,” Cas glanced at Dean clenching his jaw tightly, “Us. Let us kill him.” Dean nodded silently while breathing deeply.

“Yeah, but you know me, I had it coming,” quipped Meg, “you should see the other guy.”

“Cas we can kill him later,” Dean said calmly, “right now we need to get her to the ER so they can set the break.”

Dean was already headed that direction. Cas nodded as tears sprung in his eyes. Under the rage he felt toward Alistair, he felt anger toward Meg. But the real emotion behind the anger was fear. He was mad at Meg because he was afraid for her. That one of these days he wouldn’t get there in time and she’d be…

He flashed on his father, slumped on the bathroom floor against the tub. His skin was a pale blue-gray and his glassy eyes stared at nothing. His bathrobe pooled around him like wings with one sleeve hitched up revealing a needle hanging from where it pierced his dad’s skin.   
Cas forcefully swiped at the tears leaking down his cheeks. He turned to the window so Dean wouldn’t see. He felt a warm hand creep across the seat and cover his own. Cas looked down in shock. Dean was almost holding his hand. 

Well that was new.

Cas accepted the comfort in dumb silence and felt himself calm. Meg continued to babble in nonsense drunk-talk as they pulled up to the ER entrance. Dean took his hand away, and Cas swore he could still feel it there. Warm and heavy. Solid and familiar. 

It took a while to get Meg checked in, and Cas was pretty sure she would hate him in the morning, but she was safe. Cas overheard the staff saying she would be detained at least 72 hours and possibly admitted to the detox program there. He was glad for it even if she hated him. He would rather have a mad friend than a dead friend.

It was around 3am when Dean and Cas stumbled back to the Impala. Cas was passed out on the window almost immediately. He awoke to Dean gently shaking him and helping him out of the car and up the stairs to Dean’s apartment. He ended up curled up on the couch with a couple of blankets tucked around him and a glass of water on the table. 

“Dean?” he called as his eyes were slipping shut.

“Yeah, Cas?” Dean whispered back.

“Thanks for coming to do that,” he said dreamily, “you didn’t have to.’

“I know, man,” Dean said, “I wanted to help you.”

“You’re like the best person I’ve ever met, Dean,” Cas said, not entirely awake anymore, “I’d snatch you up and marry your ass if you were even a little gay. I’d have your kittens in a heartbeat.”

Cas was about completely asleep and swore he felt a warm pressure on his temple, like lips, but then it was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, we'll help Meg. She isn't gone from the story. 
> 
> Fixin' to post a wee bit o porn. That should cheer you up.
> 
> I feel like I might have some strings hanging out somewhere that never got woven into the story. If I figure them all out, this fic might end up way too long. We shall see <3<3<3


	6. Sleeping Arrangements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I guess you were just being cute with all your kitten talk,” he said lamely, feeling more embarrassed about the kiss than he would have if he had been caught masturbating. 
> 
> “Is that what you were thinking about when you were touching yourself in the naughty place, Dean?”
> 
> Nope. This was way worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:
> 
> *Unresolved smut  
> *Resolved fluff  
> *Potential cuddle porn  
> *Cooking rice sounding sexy

Dean lay in his bed wide awake. He could tell himself that it was because they just went through something that got his adrenaline pumping, but he was well beyond lying to himself anymore. In fact, he was able to say it out loud (in his head) that he was bi, and he was okay with that. But no one else knew. He suspected Charlie knew. Kevin too. Okay maybe everyone had known but him. 

And Cas. He was pretty sure Cas didn’t have a clue. And why would he? Since Dean was always stiffening up when they accidentally touched and got all awkward at any and every sexual innuendo. It had been a couple of months since the hugging incident, and Dean had been very careful not to get drawn in like that again. Firstly, so he wouldn’t ruin their friendship, Cas’ recovery, etc. But also because the inevitable awkward boner it would cause. 

And if he was to be completely honest about everything, Sam knew. He had watched his brother cozy up to Cas for the last few months, and at first, he thought it was because Sam needed more artistic intellectual friends, but it became evident that Sam was up to something else. He would suggest Dean invite Cas somewhere and then situate them so Dean and Cas would be next to each other. Sam let Cas ride shotgun and pick movies they would watch. He’d ask him for advice on Jess- mostly in the realm of ‘what is the deal with girls?’ He suggested that Cas come for Thanksgiving that year, and had showed him how to use all the tv remotes. Sammy was a sneaky little shit, and maybe this was his way of trying to push them together. 

But Cas wasn’t even interested in Dean like that.

There had been so many instances when Dean could have made that final leap and told him, but he froze up every time. 

He would find any excuse to touch him casually, hell, he even freaking held his hand to comfort him earlier that night!

And Cas had said the thing about the kittens or whatever that was, and Dean didn’t even try to fight the urge to cross the room, bend down, and press a kiss into Cas’ temple.

He had smelled like the cold air and sandalwood and salt. Dean would have licked his neck and tasted it, or buried his face in his hair, but that would probably cause problems. Probably.

Dean let his hands wander over his body idly as he thought about touching Cas like that. Imagining that Cas would let him run his fingertips over his chest, brushing over his sensitive nipples. He trailed his hand further down where the erection he was sporting since earlier was now at full attention. He debated with doing it rough and dirty, a fast jerk to get it over with and go to bed, or do it slow and relish the fact that the very man he was fantasizing about was just in the other room and could come in at any minute and see him with his dick out, groaning his name.

That did it. His cock twitched and began to thicken even more. He pressed down on it gently. He fumbled with the bedside drawer for the lube he kept stashed there. Flipping the blanket aside, he poured a small amount into his palm and warmed it quickly. 

As his fingers made contact, he had to bite his lip from groaning. It was never a problem to jerk off in absolute silence; sharing a room with a brother in the past taught him that. He quickened his pace but let his fingers only apply light pressure to draw it out. He screwed his eyes shut and conjured up his favorite fantasy.

_Cas is cooking up some quick beef stir-fry, Dean’s favorite dish that he makes, and steam and flavors billow around him as Dean watches from the doorway. Cas hums absently, his motions performed with a practiced ease, graceful, like conducting an orchestra. He pauses to wipe his forehead with the back of an arm, spotting Dean watching him in the moment. His smile flashes across his face quickly, and then replaced by a more feral look. He reaches over without looking away from Dean and switches off the gas and pulls the pan from the burner to cool._

_“The rice is almost done,” he growls in that voice, causing Dean to shudder with pleasure._

_Cas leans back against the counter and folds his arms, knowing smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. Dean moves in to kiss it off of him. There’s no preamble, just a slam of bodies together- lips meeting, tongues lashing, Dean tilting his head back and letting Cas control the kiss. They rut against each other, Cas hitching one of Dean’s legs over his hip and taking his weight against him, thrusting harder. And because it’s a fantasy, they are suddenly naked and Cas has their cocks gripped together in his hand, them sliding against each other, bringing Dean to the edge. Cas is mumbling in Dean’s ear, telling him, “you’re perfect, my beautiful, so good for me, I love you…” And before Dean can explode right there, the scene jumps and he’s bent over on the dining table, legs spread apart, face down, with Cas stroking his cock along Dean’s crack. Dean begs and moans for Cas to fuck him, pushes back and waggles his ass to tempt him, but Cas has absolute control. Dean is already prepped, and gasps as Cas nudges against him with the head of his cock, pushing agonizingly slow, letting out a low moan as he breaches Dean. Then he thrusts forward in one swift motion, and sets up a slow pounding rhythm, the sound of their skin slapping filling the air. Dean’s cock rubs against the surface of the table, the friction rough and perfect. Suddenly, Cas flips him over and they are on Dean’s bed and Dean has his legs wrapped around his waist, writhing and sobbing in pleasure. Cas bends low, pinning him with those perfect blue eyes. “Dean,” he whispers, “Dean, tell me. Tell me and I’ll let you come.” Dean pants and has trouble finding his voice. “Cas,” he whimpers out, “I love you, only you.” Cas gripps Dean’s cock and with only two strokes, Dean is coming in waves over his chest, and being filled so full-_

Dean gasped mouthfuls of air, his legs quaking as he slowly removed his three fingers from his hole with a wince. He had never gotten three in before. It was a new experience, fingering himself, and he really took to it. There was a spot he could find that made him explode in pleasure, and suddenly gay sex made sense to him. It had always been a mystery on why a dude would want to get fucked in _there,_ but a bottle of lube and a couple of fingers later Dean was a believer. He had always assumed he would be on top if he was ever to get with a guy, but in his growing collection of fantasies, he seemed to gravitate to the bottom. There was something so desirable about being taken care of. 

He had finally gotten up enough courage to sneak over the the adult book store downtown. He perused the hetero sex section for several minutes, trying to work up the nerve to cross the room the the gay section. He was relieved to realize that boobs still did it for him, but he was there specifically for research. They didn’t own a computer yet, and he was trying _not_ to traumatize his brother by not knowing how to erase things off the hard drive history. So the answer was to go to the experts and find things out the old fashioned way. 

There was massive wall of movies; ranging from giant cocks to bondage-type things Dean didn’t understand. It really wasn’t hard for him to pick out the things he didn’t like first. Next to the video and dvd wall was a very diverse collection of dildos and butt plugs. The latter made Dean blush when he wondered what it would feel like to be stretched around that. He found a few books and browsed a little before settling on a plain bottle of lube. He stood staring at a small blue plug for several minutes, but couldn’t bring himself to buy it. Not yet anyway. Small steps- he had gotten in the door without being struck by lightening or laughed at by fraternity boys. 

After three fingers, though, he was ready to buy the plug. 

Dean wiped sticky fingers on his shirt and swung his legs to the side, standing to stagger to the bathroom. He had about another 2 hours before Sam had to wake up for school, so he washed quickly and resolved to take a shower when he woke up. He paused and looked into the living room one last time before going back to bed. Cas was still curled into a little ball, his hair a sharp contrast to the white pillow case she slept on. 

Dean sighed. What he wouldn’t give to wake Cas up and lead him into his bed and be held by him. He had seen how easily Cas could be physically affectionate with his friends, and Dean felt a little left out where that was concerned. He hugged them, yes, but sometimes he was jealous by the way they could just hang all over each other like it was nothing. Charlie was a firm believer in the dog pile method of movie watching, and the four of them would end up on Dean’s floor on weekend nights, limbs sprawled over one another, eating snacks and quoting 80’s films, laughing and teasing each other. One night, Cas had his legs across Dean’s lap, and Dean rested his hands on his thighs and basically freaked out internally the whole movie. He didn’t remember what it was they were watching because he could only feel the points of contact and it made it hard to think at all. It had yet to happen again, and Dean had no idea how to make it happen. He probably scared Cas off by being tense and wooden. He still felt a tinge of embarrassment when he thought about it. 

Dean headed back into his room. He stared at his empty bed and went to the window instead, opening it and grabbing the ashtray off the windowsill. The sharp cold air filtered through the small gap as he lit up and took his first drag. The smoke filled his lungs, dilating his blood vessels and causing his blood to flow quicker, making him shiver. 

It was dumb that he sometimes smoked when he was cold because he thought it would make him warmer. 

A floorboard creak behind him made him jump.

“Sorry,” Cas said sheepishly, “was having trouble sleeping, and smelled you smoking.”

“Oh, man, sorry,” said Dean, reaching for the ashtray, “I’ll put it out.”

“No, wait,” Cas huffed a laugh, “I wanted a drag or two.”

Dean smiled and reached for the pack.

“Just give me a puff of yours, I don’t want a whole one,” Cas said, holding his forked fingers out to take it.

Dean handed it over, blushing in the dark at the silly thought of their lips touching. 

Cas took a drag and handed it back. He exhaled in a thin stream of smoke out the window and cocked his head at Dean. 

“Did you kiss me?”

Dean wasn’t expecting that at all and was a bit stunned. They stared at each other which probably was as good as an answer.

“Because it’s okay, you know.” Cas took the cigarette back from Dean and hit it again.

Dean broke eye contact and looked down. 

“I guess you were just being cute with all your kitten talk,” he said lamely, feeling more embarrassed about the kiss than he would have if he had been caught masturbating. 

“Is that what you were thinking about when you were touching yourself in the naughty place, Dean?”

Nope. This was way worse.

Dean’s mouth dropped open in horror and was glad for the dark covering his crimson face. 

Cas burst into giggles, almost falling over. 

“I’m just messing with you dude, you should see the look on your- oh shit,” he said, grimacing, “you were rubbing one out, weren’t you? My bad, dude, I guess I would have too- I know I needed something to knock me out after all that craziness earlier.”

Dean felt a wave of relief as he realized that Cas didn’t know what he was jerking off _to._ That was close. He redirected the conversation slightly.

“You were practically in a coma earlier, what happened?”

Cas sighed and slid to the floor, accepting a second cigarette Dean had lit. No one mentioned the fact that they could have had their own; they just kept passing one back and forth. It felt very intimate to Dean.

“I missed curfew,” Cas said sadly, “and I didn’t even call.”

“Oh fuck,” Dean swore, “oh fuck, it’s my fault, I should have taken you to your house- oh fuck.”

Cas waved a hand at him. “Nah, it was too late by then anyway. I should have called before I called you. It’s on me.”

“But that’s an automatic eviction!” Dean exclaimed, before he remembered to keep his voice down, “that’s no good.”

Cas snuffled. “Yeah but I had to get Meg. I know it seems stupid since it keeps happening, but drunk as she was, she’s still like my family.”

“Oh, believe me,” Dean said softly, “I get it. Do you think she’s going to be okay?”

Cas winced and looked down.

“Yeah, it...it reminded me of my dad, I guess,” he said, “I just- I haven’t really dealt with that clean. Without getting high over it. Feelings, you know?” He looked up at Dean again.

“Feelings are overrated,” Dean said with a soft smile.

Cas smiled back. “Yeah, feelings suck.”

They sat in silence for a moment, comfortable.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas?”

“Can I stay in here with you?”

The question was so innocent that Dean almost teared up. Sometimes he was surprised with Cas’ vulnerability and instinctively wanted to protect it. He stood and held out his hand. Cas grabbed it and Dean hauled him up. Dean was reminded of when they ran into each other in the hall. It was when they sat outside together, and Cas opened up to him, that something began to stir within him. He wasn’t sure if he could call it love back then, but it sure felt like it sometimes. 

Cas stood gracefully as he always did, and went to the left side of the bed (Dean’s side) and got in. Dean stood there and tried to suppress a smile. Cas looked over his shoulder at him once he was settled under the comforter. 

“You coming or what?” he said, “You have to be up soon, and I have a day of trying to find somewhere to live and explaining to my PO why I’m homeless again.”

Dean cringed at the entire sentence, but decided to save it for later as he only had about an hour left to sleep anyway. God knows he probably wouldn’t be able to get any sleep with Cas a few feet away-

That thought got cut short when Cas scooted closer and curled around Dean’s back, effectively turning him into the little spoon.

“Sorry, Dean,” he said, yawning, “I sleep like an octopus monkey. But I don’t snore, so there’s that.”

Dean for once decided to just let it go and sink back into the embrace. It was way better than any fantasy he could have come up with. He shut his eyes fully intending to just rest his eyes for a moment and let Cas sleep in. But the warmth at his back and the arms around his middle were like a sedative and he soon fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> awwwwwww........
> 
> The cuteness has weakened me and I need sleep. Also it is midnight and my higher brain function is already asleep
> 
> I love you all and want to have your kittens


	7. The Knighthood of the Brotherly Executive Order

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter in which the author couldn't find a good part to cut and paste here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING:
> 
> *Mentions of drug use  
> *SAM SHIPS IT  
> *Cas with seriously low self-image, you'll want to hug him  
> *angst with a side of sleep cuddles  
> *author is tired potato and can't be bothered to edit more betterer

Cas lay next to Dean as the sun began to rise. He was too worried to sleep and planned to stay up until he knew Gabriel was awake. He needed to call his sponsor- hopefully he would know what to do. Cas was sure he’d get some platitudes about accepting the consequences for his behavior. And a suggestion to go to more meetings and get honest with Crowley and his PO, and get his bed back at that fucking jail cell of an halfway house. Cas sighed as he worried, snuggling closer to Dean, burying his nose in Dean’s hair without thinking. 

Dean shifted, causing Cas to come back to himself and bite his lips to keep from laughing. Dean snorted in his sleep, smacked his lips, and whined, falling back into deep slumber. 

So fucking adorable. Cas lightly ran his fingers through Dean’s short sandy blond hair. He was really grateful Dean was in his life. He loved Charlie and Kevin, but there was something about Dean. He had been the best friend that Cas had needed his whole life. He always understood what Cas was going through, and never judged him. He was always there when Cas needed him. It sometimes felt unfair that he couldn’t be the same for Dean. 

But Cas was broken, and would always be broken. He was a used-up junkie with nothing to his name, no family except an estranged sister and a drunk mom who had no idea where he was. Naomi Novak was a real piece of work and did a bunch of fucked up things when Cas was young, but she was right about one thing. Cas would always be broken. It wasn’t his fault, really- his mother was very clear about that- he was just damaged. Even before he found his dad that morning, he had been a slave to his flaws, disappointing his parents with whatever he did. It was actually easier to just be who she said he was than prove her wrong. He was not destined to have a happy or easy life- but that was okay, artists suffered for their art. The only reason he even bothered to get clean was because it was offered as an alternative to going to jail for possession of heroin. He had gone to rehab mostly because he knew going to jail was a bad idea with his pretty face, but something unexpected happened. After the last bits of dope were out of his system, he was suddenly able to access the part of his brain that had been hiding for so long. He picked up crayons in group one day started doodling. The mojo flew from his fingertips and something settled deep in his gut. He had been really hesitant with the whole ‘get yourself a Higher Power’ thing, but when the muse hit him, he became a believer. He wasn’t sure about ‘God’, but art was a power greater than himself, and painting was his prayer. This seemed to satisfy his sponsor, so Cas didn’t struggle with it. 

He still had the crayon mandala picture- he had hung it up in his painting booth. When he looked at it, he felt that it just might be possible for everything to be okay. For everything to be awesome was too much to comprehend, but being okay sounded perfect.

Looking down at Dean gave him that same sort of feeling. Like there had to be something out in the universe that cared about him enough to drop Dean Winchester in his lap. He was beautiful and strong and cared so much about his friends and family. Sure, Cas would fuck him- I mean, he _was_ really hot- but sex was still a pretty confusing thing in his recovery. 

When he was doing a fourth step (moral inventory) with Gabe, he had to write a bunch about his sexual history. Gabe had helped him figure out that he couldn’t distinguish between sex and love. He had a consistent pattern of getting involved with someone and sleeping with them right away. It’s what he was good for, right? Then he would do everything in his power to make them love him, and inevitably, they would throw him away and move on the the next one. He slept with friends and ruined friendships. He tried to meet men and date first, but the drug scene was slim pickins for real relationships. He didn’t think he could remember actually having one. It was a mass of emotional entanglements and utilitarian sex- sex for basic needs, food, clothing, shelter- or sex for drugs. The line crossing over into prostitution blurred and he no longer cared. 

He hadn’t slept with anyone since before he got clean. There was no need to when he was shooting dope, no orgasm could compete with a high, and after he was clean, he was terrified he had caught something. But it had been a year of clean STD tests and Cas was in the clear. He had always been into safety, but he wasn’t always coherent enough to know if he used all clean needles. 

Gabriel called it the Three M’s of Recovery. Meetings, Meditation, and Masturbation. Two of the three things were really hard to accomplish in a halfway house where he shared a cramped space with two roommates. But it helped him keep it in his pants. What was the use of sex when all it did was confuse him horribly? 

Cas checked the digital clock on Dean’s nightstand. It was 5:50. The alarm would go off in ten minutes and an exhausted Dean was expected to drag himself out of bed and work all day at the garage. He would probably fall asleep under a car. Cas bit his lip and contemplated. 

He reached over and switched off the alarm and slipped out of the bed. He padded down the hall to Sam’s door and knocked gently.

“Grummphgrum…” 

Cas chuckled and opened the door. Sam was sitting up, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

“Hey Cas,” he said through a yawn, “where’s Dean?”

“I thought I’d let him sleep in and get you up for school,” Cas responded.

Sam’s eyes shot up. “You spent the night?” A slow smile started to creep across his face.

Cas wrinkled his nose and smirked. “Yeah, but not like that.”

Sam rolled his eyes and made a long-suffering noise.

“Give me five more minutes of sleep and I’ll get up.” Sam flopped back down, stretching and making his joints pop.

Cas nodded and paused, biting his lip nervously. “Hey Sam?”

“Yeah, man?”

“How pissed do you think your brother would be if I called him in sick for work? He helped me out last night and he ended up with me at the ER helping my friend until like 3. I feel really bad about it, because I know he’s been doing late nights anyway studying for finals.”

Sam quirked a smile and nodded. “Pretty pissed, but I’ll do you one better. I’ll call Bobby, then Dean can’t get mad because I can use my Brotherly Executive Order on him. He needs a break.”

“What’s a ‘Brotherly Executive Order’?” Cas asked, using air quotes.

“When we worry about the other making a bad decision or needing intervention, we enact the BEO. We can’t get mad at each other. We have to just take it. The whole point of it being a special circumstance is that it’s not about him doing something I don’t _like;_ it’s about caring enough to intervene.”

Cas was impressed. “That’s really cool. You use it often on Dean?”

Sam smirked at Cas’ obvious snooping. “Yeah,it’s been a while, though. Last time was when he was dating Lisa. He was so obviously miserable, but he was staying because she has a kid. He thought it was the right thing, but it’s actually worse to hang around letting the kid get attached only to bail because you’re not in love. And Dean wasn’t in love. I know what Dean in love looks like.”

“And he didn’t get mad at you?” Cas asked, dubious. He had seen Dean get pissed when someone tried to tell him what to do. And seriously defensive. It was pretty amazing to learn that Dean cared about his brother’s opinion that much.

“Nope,” said Sam, rolling out of bed, “he could see my point.” 

Sam looked away. “I’ve been the kid before, so I should know.”

“Damn, Sam, me too.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up.

Cas waved a hand dismissively. “Mom and her boyfriends. A long and annoying story for another time. You need me to get the phone? Is Bobby already at the shop?”

“Yeah he practically lives there. Go ahead and start the coffee please?”

Cas grinned at Sam. He could get used to this whole brotherly bonding thing. It made him feel like a part of something important. He started toward the kitchen.

“Hey, Cas?”

“Yeah, Sam,” Cas asked, poking his head back in.

“Are you going to stay with Dean all day?” Sam asked casually.

“Yeah.”

“Good.” 

Cas left the room wondering why Sam had such a big smile on his face.

********

After Sam was out the door, cello under his arm, Cas sat at the table in the quiet apartment with his phone in his hand. He had snagged an empty envelop and scratched a few things he needed to say to his PO. But first, he had to bother Gabriel. He dialed and waited.

“Hey kiddo, what’s the word?”

Cas sighed. He could do this.

“Hey Gabe, the word is ‘oh shit’.”

“That bad, huh?”

Cas pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, Meg called last night all fucked up and stuck at the park.”

Gabe let out a slow breath. Cas continued.

“So I called Dean and-”

“Wait-” Gabe cut him off, “you’re still clean, right?”

Cas was slightly taken aback. “Um, yeah. Meg was high, not me.”

“I know she was, Cas, but I worry that you put her problems over your own.”

“Her arm was broken! She was freezing!” 

Gabriel shushed him and spoke in his calm voice. “What I meant is: I’m worried that in order to take care of her, you’re risking your own recovery. I’m not saying it wasn’t the right thing to do, in fact, taking Dean was an excellent idea, saftey in numbers and such, but given the right day and right set of circumstances, you could end up high. And not just high. By having a using addict in the car, you could go to jail if you get pulled over and she has dope on her. There are other ways to handle it.”

“Oh, yeah,” retorted Cas, “like what?”

 

“Like call your sponsor, numbskull,” Gabe shot back, “I’ve got the experience to help you. I am a resource, so use me. I dig helping addicts, it helps me stay clean. And just because Meg chose to get high, doesn't mean that she doesn’t deserve our help. We just have to keep everyone safe.”

Cas could feel the righteous indignation in his chest deflating. Gabe was right. Good thing Dean was with him.

“I’m really glad Dean was there, too,” Cas said quietly, “if I hadn’t called him, I’d had taken the bus and been out there with no backup. And she had a broken arm. It was actually pretty scary.”

“You can’t forever rely on Dean to be available to protect you from yourself- that’s that co dependent shit we talked about, remember? Just like you can’t stop Meg from a relapse, Dean can’t stop you from one either. Time to start asking for help.” 

Cas sagged down in his chair. “There’s more.”

“Lay it on me bro,” Gabe quipped cheerfully. 

Cas told him of his predicament of not calling or showing up at home the night before. He braced himself for the blow.

“Well, that sucks, but at least you can move out now,” Gabe said, “that Crowley is a slimy motherfucker anyway.” 

Cas was surprised. “What about my PO?”

“My suggestion is to call her right away and tell her the situation. Offer to pee in a cup if she needs you to. Ask if she wants you to find another halfway house or if you can move on. Hey is that dorm opening up any time soon?”

“Not sure. They said there might be a vacancy after the New Year.”

“Mention that then. She might be okay with crashing on a friend’s couch or something until then. I assure you, she isn’t looking to lock you up. You’re a probation success story so far, and the less re-incarcerations she has, the better she looks. You’ll see.”

Cas hummed thoughtfully. “Thanks Gabe I’ll do that.”

After they hung up, he called Ms. Allen before he lost his nerve. The conversation went surprisingly well, and she didn’t even ask him to come in. He got the feeling she was tired of dealing with Crowley’s shady ass too. Her suggestion was to hold out for a dorm and stay with a friend until then. All he had to do was submit their address and he would be compliant.

His exhaustion was starting to hit him. He didn’t have to be in to work that night, so he could crash with Dean and they could order pizza. 

He hung up with Gabe and dragged himself back into Dean’s room. Dean was still dead to the world, his hair sticking up a little where it had been mashed into the pillow. Cas smiled softly and slipped back between the covers. The blinds were doing a pretty good job of keeping it dark in there, so Cas was nearing coma-state as he scooted closer to Dean’s sleeping form. He had the urge to pull Dean to his chest, and didn’t stop to think before he did it. 

Dean came willingly without waking up. He snuffled and sighed happily, tightening his arms around Cas’ waist and scootching closer. Cas set Dean’s head under his chin and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god just fuck already we all know youre going to just do it already like get a fucking room quit being confused cucumbers and jus doooooo it


	8. Rude Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dean, chill. Not that big a deal.”
> 
> Dean was ready to start apologizing again when he stopped. Not that big a deal? It was a huge deal! He was in his fucking bed, with the literal guy of his fucking dreams, and aforementioned guy just said it was no big deal. Dean huffed. That was the problem. He was an idiot with a crush on his best friend and his best friend wasn’t even phased by the fact that Dean was all over him in his sleep. He shut down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, the title is a little stupid. sorry for that.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS:
> 
> *angst but no sex. I wish the author would get their shit together.

Dean was having the greatest dream. He was surrounded by soft linen sheets flapping in wind on clotheslines in the sun. It was the perfect kind of warm, sunny but crisp.

Cas was standing on the other side of the row of flapping sheets, smiling at him. He was dressed in a rumpled business suit and backward blue tie, and wearing a tan trenchcoat. His eyes matched the sky. His eyeliner was perfect.

Dean was yelling to Cas that his suit and coat must be too hot and he should take it off, but Cas just kept smiling at him. Dean swam through the sheets, the image of Cas disappearing and reappearing as the sheets licked at his body and face. 

Dean reached out to Cas and helped him strip down to nothing. His tattoos swirled and moved on the surface of his skin; his wings pulling away from his arms and solidifying into sleek black wings that stretched out and around them, pulling them closer together. Dean was naked too, and the feeling of bare skin touching sent shivers down his spine when Cas embraced him and held him close. Dean’s cock nudged against Cas’ leg, causing them both to gasp. He moved his hips again and it began to harden rapidly. Cas was stroking his hair and wrapping the dark wings around them shading them from the sun. 

“Shhh...Dean,” Cas whispered, “you’re dreaming.”

Dean moaned in response and thrust gently against his leg again. 

“Dean, you might want to wake up,” Cas said, louder this time.

Dean snapped his eyes open and gasped, pulling away from Cas, who was very much awake and in his bed. Somehow he had managed to lay all over Cas’ chest and then _hump his friggin’ leg._ He was mortified. Cas had a curious look on his face, like he didn’t know what to make of Dean.

Dean pushed back further and started mumbling apologies and covering his lap with a pillow. His face was probably going to fall off from embarrassment. Cas furrowed his brow.

“Dean, chill. Not that big a deal.”

Dean was ready to start apologizing again when he stopped. Not that big a deal? It was a huge deal! He was in his fucking bed, with the literal guy of his fucking dreams, and aforementioned guy just said it was no big deal. Dean huffed. That was the problem. He was an idiot with a crush on his best friend and his best friend wasn’t even phased by the fact that Dean was all over him in his sleep. He shut down.

“Yeah. Whatever.” He squinted at the drawn shades and looked at the clock.

“Holy shit, 10 am? What the fuck, Cas, how could you let me sleep in? I had work, you know that.” Dean practically yelled. Yep. Erection gone.

“Dean, let me explain,” Cas said holding his hands up defensively, “I was really grateful for you helping me last night-” 

“So you repay me by making me miss work today?” Dean talked over him, grabbing clothes off the floor and pulling them on.

“Dean that was not my intention,” Cas said, “I thought you needed a break, so Sammy and I-”

“Oh, so suddenly everyone knows what I need?” he spat out, “You know what I need? I need to go to work. I need to be a responsible grown up, because someone around here has to be.”

Dean caught the look of anguish on Cas’ face as he stormed out of the bedroom then out of the apartment. He headed to the Impala and immediately regretted everything he just said. None of what he said was fair. He pulled out his phone and scrolled to Bobby’s name.

“Yeah,” grunted Bobby.

“Hey, Bobby, It's Dean...Man, I’m so sorry I’m late, I didn’t get up when my alarm went off and I was out late helping this girl-”

“Slow down boy, you’ll give yourself an aneurysm. Your brother called earlier and asked for the day off for you. I agreed- you have been working really hard at school and everything, so I thought you could use a vacation day. So you can hang out with that friend of yours. And uh...Sam wanted me to tell you...hold on, I have it here somewhere- kid made me write it down…” Dean could hear Bobby shuffling some paper. “Ah. Got it. It says, ‘Dean Winchester, brother of Sam Winchester, is to remain home and hang out with Castiel Novak for the remainder of the day under Brotherly Executive Order.’ Hell, I feel like a damn fool reading it- tell your brother he’s too smart for his own good. And say hi to that friend of yours for me.”

“Cas?” Dean said weakly, suddenly feeling like the biggest douche on the planet.

“Yeah. Sam said Cas would let you get some much-needed sleep, then feed you or something. Did you not get the memo?”

“Nah,” said Dean, “I guess I didn’t. Ah, I’m an idiot.”

“Well we already knew that, now didn’t we?”

“Ha ha. Hey Bobby?”

“Yeah Dean?”

“Thanks, man. I owe you one.”

“No you don’t, dumbass, that’s the whole point. Now go back in there at take a fucking nap, eat bon bons or paint your toes, or whatever you do on a day off.”

Dean grinned. “You mean like read Tori Spelling biographies?”

“You little shit,” Bobby said. And with that, he hung up on Dean.

Dean looked back up at his apartment door. He felt like such a idiot. Cas was trying to do something nice, something you’d do for your friend, and Dean screwed it up because he had stupid feelings that were ruining stupid everything. 

Dean walked slowly back up the stairs, trying to think how he was going to apologize. He was glad he hadn’t left or Cas might have gone somewhere before he could say he was sorry. But Cas didn’t really have anywhere to go. Dean cringed. He had just yelled at his best friend who had just become homeless because Dean took him home instead of to Crowley’s. And he might be getting a violation from his PO from being kicked out. That could mean jail time. 

He just yelled at his best friend that could soon be on the streets or in jail because he tried to help someone. 

Dean unlocked the door and opened it slowly. Cas was on the couch putting his shoes on with shaking hands. His eyeliner was streaked across his cheeks.

“Did you forget something?” Cas said in a small flat voice.

Dean stood looking at him frantically wondering if he could fix it.

He walked over to the couch and sat beside Cas. Cas stopped tying his laces and looked at Dean with a blank indifferent face.

“Cas, man, I’m sorry, I-”

“No it’s okay, I understand. I made a mistake, I’ll just go now. I’m sorry about getting in your bed. That wasn’t okay, and I pushed your boundaries, and it’s my fault.”

“Wait, what?” Dean asked, confused.

“In the bed?” Cas said, swiping at his nose with his sleeve, “Just now? When I was being liberal with the cuddling? Isn’t that what this is about?”

“No! I mean, yes, but no not like you mean,” Dean said, wincing, knowing he just might have made things relatively more complex.

“Then what, Dean, what’s the issue? I’m tired of tiptoeing around your heterosexuality. I’m terrible at personal space, and I can’t keep my hands to myself. I can’t help it, I’m cuddly by nature. It’s just who I am. But I keep doing things that make you uncomfortable, and I can’t stand it because it’s hurting you and I can’t seem to stop touching you! It’s too hard!”

“I like it,” Dean said, barely above a whisper, looking down at his hands and wishing there was about fifty lit cigarettes in them.

Cas froze. “What?”

Dean sighed and felt his face flush. 

“That’s the issue. I, uh, like it when you touch me.”

Dean kept his eyes down. If he looked up, he’d get lost in those blue eyes and blurt out everything and it would be worse.

“You like it?” Cas asked carefully, “As in you _like_ like it?”

Dean nodded miserably. 

“I don’t know how to feel about that,” Cas said, more to himself. Dean loved that Cas was able to process his emotions so well. It made up for Dean being so stunted in that area. 

Dean waited, having no idea what Cas was going to do. It looked like Cas didn’t know either. They both sat back on the couch, staring forward in silence. Even with this hanging in the air, Dean marveled at how comfortable they were with one another. 

Finally Cas turned to him. 

“How long?”

“Huh?” Dean said stupidly.

“How long have you been attracted to men?”

Dean swallowed and kept looking forward. “Uh, I haven’t really been...attracted to _men_ per se,” he started slowly, “I just- um, you. I’ve only been attracted to you...for some time.”

Cas was quiet for a minute. Dean was tempted to look over at him, but wasn’t sure he'd like what he saw. 

“So...this isn’t...new?”

Dean shook his head.

“The Big Gay Panic has already happened?”

Dean nodded.

“Oh my God. This changes everything,” Cas said softly, “I don’t even, I can’t- I not supposed to-”

Cas stood suddenly and paced the room.

“I need to get some air,” he said, “and call Gabe.”

Dean nodded and blinked back the prickling in his eyes. 

Cas opened the apartment door, letting in a cold gust of air before letting it slam shut.

Dean stood and walked back to his room, pulled his jeans and shoes back off, and got back into bed. He knew sleep was not happening now. There was no escape. He’d probably just chased off the love of his life and his best friend. He buried his face into the pillow Cas had slept on and choked out a sob. 

Dean suddenly realized that Cas might think he just wants to fuck him. He wasn’t exactly clear on how he felt- just that he was attracted to him and had humped his leg that morning. 

Dean got off the bed and pulled his phone out of his jeans pocket. He set it on the bed and climbed back on. He opened the text function and typed in Cas’ name. His thumbs hovered over the numbers, not sure what exactly to say.

_im sry. Come back soon?_

He waited. A few minutes passed and he wondered if Cas was just going to blow him off.

His phone buzzed.

_got 2 meet up w gabe. Ttyl_

Dean typed K and dropped the phone. He felt pathetic. He reached over to his bedside table and grabbed his walkman and popped in his Led Zeppelin tape and cranked it up. He fucking hated having feelings. Cas was his go-to when he was feeling some kind of way. 

It had been a while since he wished he had some liquor in the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UGH! The angst. This was short but caused me anxiety. 
> 
> Hang in there my sweet potato pies, smut is on the horizon. I didn't mean to drag it out this long, but I rarely have control over where these things end up.


	9. The Head and The Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “But he didn’t say he loved me,” Cas said weakly, “he just said he was attracted to me.”
> 
> “Did you stick around long enough to listen to what he meant by that?”
> 
> Cas flushed and then buried his face in his hands. “No, I guess not.”
> 
> “So what you’re saying is that Dean, your best friend, _only_ told you he was attracted to you, and now you’ve turned it into a giant _thing_ by being a drama queen about it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:
> 
> *burnt quesadilla  
> *Gabriel helps Cas perform and Anal/Cranial Extraction (pull his head out of his ass)
> 
> It's funny how you people really know me better than my family in some ways. I love you all! We must do lunch!

Cas walked quickly away from the apartment building without turning around. Some part of him hoped Dean would come after him, but mostly he just wanted to be alone.

Things just got complicated. And complicated was not something Cas knew how to cope with on his own. He rummaged in his bookbag for his bus schedule as he walked down the street to the main road and bus stop. He really wished Meg would show up and ride the bus with him, but it felt like he was going to be on his own for awhile. 

It was only a ten minute wait, and the stop was one with a bench. Cas flung himself down and fumbled around in his bag for his sunglasses. His face must look like Tammy Faye Bakker by now, and he wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t start crying again.

But why would he cry? Dean just admitted that he was attracted to Cas, why wasn’t he happy that Dean just came out to him? Why couldn’t he just be happy for Dean? Cas was used to being seen as a desirable fuck, but why did it hurt so much when it was Dean that thought that of him? His head was spinning and he needed to call Gabe.

He was reaching into his pocket for his phone when it beeped. He pulled it out. 

_1 new msg._

He knew it was from Dean, and his stomach did a salsa dance before he opened it.

_im sry. Come back soon?_

Cas stared at the screen, but it revealed no more insight the longer he looked. Why was Dean sorry? He didn’t do anything wrong. It was Cas that bailed when things got weird. He didn’t know what to say back to him. Something neutral. 

_got to meet up w Gabe. Ttyl_

He waited but got no response. 

Ten minutes and then on a crowded bus was no way to have a conversation with his sponsor, so he headed to Music Row to the noon meeting where Gabe was guaranteed to be. Maybe a meeting and a talk with his sponsor would enlighten him to what he should do. Gabriel would probably tell Cas that he should put some space between he and Dean, and focus on his steps. It would be really hard, but Cas would do the right thing and leave Dean alone so he could get over his attraction. Dean would be fine, he had family and friends that would be there for him. Cas would graciously step back from their group of friends and allow Dean to feel safe. Yeah. That sounded like something wise Gabe would say.

********  
“You selfish asshole.”

Cas paused mid-stir in his coffee and looked up at Gabe. He wasn’t expecting that.

“I’m sorry?” he said.

Gabe snorted. “Yeah, you’re sorry. One sorry-ass motherfucker.”

“What do you mean?” Cas was confused. He thought Gabe would be impressed that he could work out the solution to the issue with Dean on his own.

“What I mean is that you walked out on that poor boy’s love confession, and now you’ve distanced your own feelings so much that you’re telling yourself that- not only are you an awesome friend for abandoning him, but also you know what’s best for him. You’re justifying running because you’re scared.” Gabe sat back and sipped his coffee casually, as if he didn’t just slap the shit out of Cas with reality. 

“But he didn’t say he loved me,” Cas said weakly, “he just said he was attracted to me.”

“Did you stick around long enough to listen to what he meant by that?”

Cas flushed and then buried his face in his hands. “No, I guess not.”

“So what you’re saying is that Dean, your best friend, _only_ told you he was attracted to you, and now you’ve turned it into a giant _thing_ by being a drama queen about it?”

“Well…” Cas sucked air in through his teeth.

“There’s always more.” Gabe smirked and waited.

“I did kind of ask to sleep in his bed until he had to go to work. And perhaps there might have been a little cuddling. And maybe Dean humped my leg in his sleep.”

“There it is.” Gabe took another sip and Cas waited for something. Anything. That fucker was enjoying making him squirm!

Cas rolled his eyes and sighed. “There what is?”

Gabe leaned in suddenly, pulling Cas’ attention into a tight focus. 

“For the last, _at least,_ month, all you have done when you call me is skirt the subject of Dean. He is mysteriously missing from your update on your friends. Obviously missing. And why is this? I ask myself. Could it be that Cas doesn’t care enough about his best friend to mention him to me? Or could it be the usual reason why a sponsee doesn’t mention something to their sponsor. Because they are doing something they think is naughty. But hmmm. Don’t I ask you specifically about Dean sometimes?”

Cas nodded.

“Well, the information you give is always about the amazing things Dean is doing at school, or how good he is with his brother. So it becomes evident to me that you aren’t hiding sex from me. By the way I literally don’t give a fuck where you put your pecker, just as long as you work your steps. 

“But you’re hiding something else. Something bigger. And then I think, is Cas hiding this from himself too? Because we addicts are the kings of denial. So let me break it down for you. 1. You spend nearly every day at Dean’s house with him and his brother, and are even going to have Thanksgiving with them. 2. When shit hits the fan, ie Meg, you call Dean first. 3. You just said that you told him you had a hard time keeping your hands to yourself when it came to him. 4. You’ve remarked on his Greek-god-like looks more than once. 5. _You are painting a six foot by four foot oil painting of him, for him, as a surprise Christmas present._ Which he will love by the way, in fact… check this out- Dean wants you there for Thanksgiving. When shit hits the fan, he comes running. He admitted to liking being touched by you, and being attracted to you. But this is the real kicker.”

Gabe took a sip of his coffee. _Who’s the drama queen now,_ thought Cas absently.

“The real kicker is that: when you fell asleep in his car, he took you home. No to a halfway house, but what he sees as home. And he wanted you there. Now tell me. With all that information, what conclusion do you come to now?”

Cas sat speechless. Everything Gabe had just said were true statements, just in a way Cas hadn’t thought to look at them. 

“Well, I know I love him,” Cas said, biting his lip in contemplation, “I’ve known that since the beginning. But I love Charlie and Kevin and even you, when you’re not pissing me off.”

Gabe grinned at him and waggled his eyebrows.

Cas breathed slowly. “You’re implying that Dean loves me?”

Gabe rolled his eyes, “No dipshit, I stated it, not implied it.”

Cas nodded and studied his fingers. He had to start working at 2, and he still had a few minutes to process this. Or- he could just tell Gabe he has a few things to do for Kali before he started his shift. But that wouldn’t work, since Kali was Gabe’s girlfriend. Maybe if he just-

Cas froze and lifted his head and looked at Gabe. “Just now...I was trying to figure out how to get away from this. This discussion. I was trying to run away again. Why the fuck…”

“Good for you!” Gabe said, smacking him on the arm and sitting back in his chair, “Keeping an eye on those thoughts. Not bad. I’d like to hand you the answers, and make decisions for your life, but I’m a terrible mismanager of my own life, which is why I have a sponsor too- so he can be douchey and not give me the answers I want either. And so it goes. But I want you to try something. I want you to pray.”

Cas rolled his eyes, “I know, I know…”

“Clearly not. What I want you to do is pray to have your shrunken little grinch heart connect with that massive over-thinking emo nerd-brain of yours. Can you do that for me?”

Cas grinned at Gabe. He loved that guy. As always he pushed him in the right direction, but had faith in Cas enough to make his own decisions. 

“Hey,” Cas said, “I do need to go ahead and clock in, but I wanted to ask if you were going to be able to make it to my one year anniversary.”

“This Sunday at 7, right? I was going to ask if I could bring Kali- you can say no, she is your boss after all, but she’s twisting my arm about it. She blames you for us getting together and wants to show her support.”

Cas felt his eyes water. “Sure, I- I’d really like that.”

“Okay, stop it with that, you’re gonna get me going,” Gabe said sniffing and chuckling, “and I have a reputation to maintain.”

“Whatever, loser,” Cas said fondly as he stood up.

“Go clean something, be useful. Don’t pee in the coffee maker,” Gabe said, giving him a half hug as he walked away.

“Gross,” Cas said wrinkling his nose. Work would be a good distraction.

********

It was the height of dinner rush when it hit Cas like a bus to the face. 

He was holding a spatula, about to flip a quesadilla, thinking about how he couldn’t wait until he was off work, because maybe he and Dean could go catch a late movie. He could make Dean a cheeseburger- extra bacon- and a couple slices of pie, of course, and sneak that into the theater. He was smiling fondly at nothing, and felt his chest flutter. He paused, spatula in the air, and stared at the wall. 

_Heart and head. Connect my heart and head._

_”I know I love him, I’ve known that since the beginning…”_

Oh. OH!

Cas dropped the spatula with a clang. He _knows_ he loves him, with his head. But did he ever ask his heart if it knew that too? 

He didn’t have to wait long for the answer. 

He didn’t just love Dean, he _needed_ Dean. He needed Dean in his life, needed to be in Dean’s life. But as the most important person in Dean’s life. Because Dean was that for him. He needed to be near him, needed to know what he thought about, needed to help him with anything that Dean needed. He needed Dean to love him. Because he loved Dean. 

He suddenly realized it had been some sort of strange courtship with Dean since he met him. He reddened at that thought. He’d been courting Dean, and now that Dean has come to terms with his own feelings, Cas ran off like an idiot. 

Oh. He was a selfish asshole. 

He came back to himself to the smell of burning quesadilla. He reached for a clean spatula and expertly flipped the burnt tortilla to the trashcan and started another. He worked without pausing again, not needing to devote much of his brain to his actions; he was on autopilot. Instead his mind was kicking his own ass all over the kitchen. 

And he still had to work for another hour before the rush was over, and three before his shift was over. He needed to text Dean.

He winced again, almost dropping a club sandwich, remembering that he told Dean he would talk to him later. 

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” he moaned, looking over at the shelf his phone was sitting on. He didn’t even know what to say now. There was too much. Was he supposed to be like, sorry I ran out on you and broke your heart, but I’m too dense to realize I’m in love with you, madly in love with you, in fact I have been since we met.

Cas swallowed. That was actually true. He was suddenly out of his depth. He could call Gabe again, but he needed to just freak out all over someone. Gabe would tell him to suck it up, Charlie would let him have a complete come-apart and bring him tea and rub his back. He needed that. He would call Charlie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tammy Faye Bakker and her [runny eye makeup](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/KHI-neRBl3E/hqdefault.jpg)
> 
> She was a televangelist in the eighties. Known for her excessive black mascara and crying. Here's one of Jan Hooks playing [TFB](http://i.embed.ly/1/display/resize?key=1e6a1a1efdb011df84894040444cdc60&url=http%3A%2F%2Fpbs.twimg.com%2Fmedia%2FBzinufLIIAAeHge.jpg) on SNL.


	10. Dean and Sam Go to Jail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Okay, see you in the morning, Dean.”
> 
> “Alright, uh, see you then.”
> 
> Their goodbyes were always awkward- Dean could tell his dad wanted to say he loved him, but they had never been ones to express that particular sentiment. Dean wasn’t ready to hear it or return it, anyway. He hadn’t ever said it to anyone- not sure he even knew what that felt like. He knew he loved his dad and Sam, and his mom of course, but that was practically genetic. And it didn’t need to be said to be understood. Which brought his thinking back to Cas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING:
> 
> *John Winchester is pretty good guy (said in Borat accent)  
> *man hugging  
> *Sam is a little shit but in the Best Way Possible  
> *Dean likes chick flicks

Sam and Dean leaned against the Impala in the cold November morning sun. There were no clouds, and the blue was near blinding. Dean loved how the air felt _cleaner_ somehow in the cold weather in Nashville, and his lungs would get a much-needed scrubbing. He looked down at the slowly burning cigarette in between his fingers. It was comforting. Thoughts of quitting were far from his mind, sighting the stress of (Breakup? Falling out? Outright abandonment?) arguing with Cas. He still hadn’t heard anything from him, and it had been nearly 24 hours. He knew that Cas would need to go process in the way he always did: talking about it to several people, and Dean dealt with it in the way he always dealt with anything: Talking to Sam.

Sam had been so disappointed in the outcome of the revelation of Dean’s feelings. He was so sure Cas would jump into Dean’s arms. Dean pulled a face when Sammy said that- and realized that Sam had been invested in their eventual romantic relationship longer than Dean had. It had been hard to talk to Sam about his newfound acceptance of his sexuality, but Sam was kind and understanding. He was lucky to have a little brother like him. 

Dea had stayed in bed all day, wasting a perfectly good day off feeling sorry for himself. He was midway through watching _Say Anything_ in his chick-flick marathon, when his dad called the landline. Dean accepted the charges.

“Hey Dean!” John said, sounding happy, “How’s it going, buddy?

It was still really weird for his dad to be so affectionate.

“Uh, great, dad,” Dean said, trying to keep his voice neutral, “you doing okay?”

John chuckled, “I’m actually doing really well today. You guys still coming tomorrow?”

It was visitation on Saturday mornings, and Dean and Sam hadn’t missed one in a long time. Not many people knew about it, but Dean had always talked to Cas about it afterward. Cas seemed to understand Dean’s excitement and bitterness, and was always a comfort and offered hope that his dad would stay sober this time. Dean cringed at this thoughts.

“Of, course, dad, wouldn’t miss it.”

“Good deal, son, I have some news,” John said, seeming like he was trying to hide his excitement. Dean could tell his dad wanted whatever it was to be a surprise, so he didn’t press for information. 

“Awesome. We’ll be there when the doors open, okay?” Dean covered his face with a hand, holding back tears again, just wanting to get off the phone and watch his sappy love stories with predictable outcomes. 

“Okay, Dean,” his dad said easily, “tell Sam I said hi.”

“You can tell him yourself, if you want, he’s here.” 

John grunted in agreement and Dean yelled for his brother to come get the phone.

“Okay, see you in the morning, Dean.”

“Alright, uh, see you then.”

Their goodbyes were always awkward- Dean could tell his dad wanted to say he loved him, but they had never been ones to express that particular sentiment. Dean wasn’t ready to hear it or return it, anyway. He hadn’t ever said it to anyone- not sure he even knew what that felt like. He knew he loved his dad and Sam, and his mom of course, but that was practically genetic. And it didn’t need to be said to be understood. Which brought his thinking back to Cas. 

Cas was always very liberal with the ‘I love you’s.’ He said it in the same way you’d tell someone that you liked their shirt- it was no less true, but was merely an observation. He was pretty sure Cas didn’t mind that Dean couldn’t say it back. 

Dean pressed play and burrowed down in his blanket, wondering if Cas was gone from his life for good. Maybe Cas would flattered, and Dean could go back to pining in silence and they could resume their friendship and pretend nothing had happened. Dean was awesome at that.

Dean and Sam had left the apartment early and ended up having to wait in the parking lot of the Criminal Detention Center until the doors were opened. They had to go through the usual routine of checking in their phones and ID’s, and a quick pat-down since they had been granted contact visits. They were escorted to the cafeteria to wait for the guard to bring their dad out. 

The cafeteria was crowded that day- it was close to Thanksgiving and the holidays always brought the guilt out in families who had forgotten sons and brothers and fathers in lock-up. John had said that almost 90% of the men he was locked up with were there because of drug addiction. Either drug charges, DUI’s, or crimes committed while under the influence or in the need of getting drugs. Dean actually felt happy to see so many visitors. 

Dean tried to keep his mind on the good news that his dad wanted to share. He had an idea what it might be about, but he wanted to hear it from John’s own mouth. And Sam had some pretty great news as well. 

“Hey boys,” John said, grinning as he was brought out and uncuffed, “Nice weather we’re having, isn’t it? I think we were due for some sunshine, am I right?”

Sam grinned and rolled his eyes, “Stop it dad, you’re such a nerd.”

John’s smile grew and even Dean smirked at his dad’s obvious attempt at building suspense.

“Okay, okay, you got me,” John said, holding up his hands, “but to be fair, Sam, you had to get the nerdiness from somewhere, isn’t that right Dean?”

Dean snorted, failing to hold back a smile. His brother and dad’s relationship had been getting better and better over the last few months. It helped that his dad was really trying to make up for being so absent. 

John shook his head fondly and cleared his throat. 

“I got a call from my lawyer and… Mr. Harvelle woke up from his coma.”

Dean and Sam both jumped up and hugged their dad. This _was_ great news. This meant John didn’t make a widow out of his wife Ellen, and Jo got to keep her dad. And it meant John wouldn’t be charged with vehicular homicide. 

Once they were done slapping each other’s backs and pretending they weren’t getting misty-eyed, John gave them the details. William had come out of his coma with no brain damage and only would have a slight limp. He had a pretty good recollection of what happened during the crash, which was rare for a coma patient to have. It turned out that John had run Mr. Harvelle off the road because a tractor trailer had swerved into his lane. John had been blackout drunk at the time, so it was news to him too. He was still at fault, and the DUI and reckless endangerment charges still stood, and he wouldn’t have a license for a long time, but he no longer had the death of a man on his conscience. It would be a lot of insurance settling and hospital bills to be responsible for, but the family decided not to press charges and John would be able to move on.

“And that’s not all,” he said excitedly, “a judge here has started a program where you go to rehab instead of prison and can do parole supervision from a recovery house. If I can get a job quick enough, it means I can get out of here for good.”

Dean was happy for his dad. He really was. He listened to Sam talk excitedly about dad being able to come to graduation. All Dean could think about was all the times he thought John would stay sober and ended up relapsing. 

“Dean, I know that look,” John said, eyeing him, “and you have every right to doubt me. My counselor in here has suggested grief counseling, and seems to think that might be the key to help me stay sober this time. That and keeping a tight leash on me.” 

Dean smiled in spite of himself and decided to reserve judgement for when his dad finished rehab. 

“So I have some news too, dad,” Sam said modestly, “I have early acceptance to Stanford pre-law and have a full academic scholarship.”

Dean thought his dad’s head would explode. There were more hugs and back-slapping, and as happy as Dean was, he felt a little out of place having no good news to share.

“How’s school treating you, Dean?” Dad looked at Dean in interest, which he still needed getting used to.

“I finished my final short film project,” he said, small smile on his face, “and I think I’m going to get an A. And my professor says I should enter into the Nashville Film Festival, but I’m not sure yet.” 

His dad had a soft, proud look on his face.

The short was about a soldier in Vietnam who finds a locket in the jungle. There’s a picture of a little blonde baby in it, and he can’t find the owner. He holds on to it, hoping he finds the soldier who lost it so he could return it. The locket help keep him sane in the midst of the war, reminding him that there were reasons to keep going even while fighting a losing battle in a strange land. After being discharged from the Marines, he returns home to Nashville and tries to start a civilian life. He buys a car, and one day gives a young girl a ride home in the rain. She sees the locket hanging from his rearview mirror and they are shocked to discover that the picture is her and the locket was lost by her father when he was killed in Vietnam. So basically it was the story of how John Winchester met Mary Campbell.

“Dean’s working on another project,” Sam said, looking pointedly at Dean.

“Oh, really? That’s great, Dean, what’s this one about?” 

The focus had been on Dean too long. He was ready to try and shift the subjest away from himself again.

“Oh it’s just a collaboration piece, no big deal. So Sammy, how’s Jess?” Dean smirked at his brother.

“How’s Cas?” Sam shot back.

John had his eyebrows up, waiting for an explanation.

Dean’s face reddened. He wasn’t sure this was something he was ready to tell his father. They were getting along so well. He was in no mood to be told he was going to hell. At this point, hell actually sounded like a pretty good option over having this conversation. 

John turned to Dean. “Cas is your best friend, right? The one in recovery?”

Dean nodded and gave Sam an evil look. He had been telling dad about Cas for some time, hoping John could glean some hope from his ‘active addiction to recovery’ story. Sam just gave him an innocent puppy look.

John looked knowingly at Sam and addressed Dean. 

“Did I ever tell you about Elkins?”

Dean furrowed his brow. “Your buddy from basic training?”

“Yeah. Daniel and I were in basic and got stationed in Hannoy together until he was taken as a POW and eventually killed.” John paused and cleared his throat, holding back emotion.

“He and I were very close. Actually, closer than the usual for two soldiers. I was reluctant to admit my feelings for him, and then he was captured. I blamed myself for so long- I had convinced myself that he and I had sinned against God and he was killed because of it and I would be made to suffer for my whole life because of it. When I fell in love with your mother, I felt so guilty that I told her about it, and she is the one who helped me grieve and forgive myself. But then she died, and I convinced myself that it was my fault too. That she was killed in that fire because I still deserved to suffer. And I tortured myself over the years and even passed it on to you boys. And I’m sorry for that, Dean.”

Dean sat with his mouth slightly open, completely stunned. Sam didn’t look surprised at all.

“You- you-” Dean couldn’t finish his sentence. He looked at Sam. “You told him?” 

Sam nodded defiantly. “I told him a long time ago, and only yesterday he told me that story and I insisted he tell you too.”

“So you were talking about me behind my back?” Dean asked angrily.

“Oh, shut up, Dean,” Sam said, rolling his eyes again, “it was for your own good, and you know it.”

Dean ventured a look at his dad. John was smiling a soft smile, hope in his eyes. Dean nodded at him and looked down.

“I- I really messed up. I think I chased him off. I have no idea what to do about it,” he said finally.

John reached over and clumsily patted his arm. “I’m sure it will work out, he was probably just blindsided. From what Sam tells me, Cas is just as smitten as you.”

Sam groaned. “Dad, never say ‘smitten’ again, ever.”

John laughed, and smiled at Dean’s blush. “Just be open to whatever happens. If there’s anything I’ve learned while I’ve been stuck in this place is that God doesn’t spend His time doling out punishments and rewards for every little thing we do. That’s not how it works. Life is just life and you got to accept consequences for your actions, good or bad. Shit happens, that’s life, and it’s all about how you handle it. You can cower in the corner and feel sorry for yourself, like I did for all those years, or you can get over your bruised ego and ask for help. There are those of us in your life that will always be there for you Dean, and I’m pretty sure Cas is one of those people too.”

Dean couldn’t speak. It was a lot to absorb in one hour. 

The guard came out and gave them a five-minute warning, so they got up to say their goodbyes. Dean was silent as they left the CDC. Sam looked a little too pleased with himself.

“You know you’re screwed, right?” He asked Sam, giving him a menacing look.

Sam smiled at him smugly as they got in the Impala. “And why is that?”

“I’m going to tell Jess that you’re in love with her.”

Sam squeaked and a rather hilarious teasing argument ensued, and Dean felt lighter than he had in years. Maybe ever.

He had to find Cas and apologize. He needed to salvage whatever he could; he couldn’t lose his best friend. Better to have Cas than not have him, in whatever capacity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk why, but I keep being sympathetic to John Winchester in my fics. Probably because he's my dad's age. 
> 
> Collaboration? I wonder what that could be?
> 
> Oh, and I've been watching season 1 again and threw in Daniel Elkins (The Colt) and William Harvelle (Jo's father)


	11. What Happens in the Supply Closet, Stays in the Supply Closet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> God, he was such an idiot. Of course he wanted Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:
> 
> *Anna's kind of a shit sister  
> *Chunky Monkey  
> *Sexy times in a supply closet  
> *And here come da angst, ya'll

Cas slumped in his frumpy chair in the painting studio. He had been trying to work on the painting of Dean, so it would be finished by the end of next week, but his mind kept wandering back to the conversation with Dean and then Gabe. 

He had called a very sleepy Charlie at midnight and asked if he could spend the night in the dorms with her. She welcomed him with microwave hot chocolate and a half-eaten pint of Chunky Monkey. He was very grateful.

They had talked into the wee hours of the morning, and she listen to him whine then cry, and hugged him and told him everything would be okay. There were no amazing revelations except that Cas realized what an idiot he was to not have seen it before- he was clearly in love with his best friend, and was the last one to know.

When he awoke, he and Charlie grabbed Kevin and headed to Crowley’s to pick up the few possessions that Cas had that weren’t already at school. He kept everything important to him in his painting booth; he trusted the other students way more than the homophobic asshole roommates he had at Crowley’s.

The conversation with Crowley was less than pleasant, and he even claimed that Cas owed him more money, but Cas had kept all his rent receipts and was in the clear. He grabbed his duffel and walked away from that chapter of his life with two of his best friends. It wasn’t as dramatic to walk off to the bus stop as it would have been squealing away from the curb in the Impala, but Cas wasn’t ready to call Dean and ask for favors. He still didn’t know what to say to him, so calling for a favor wouldn’t be okay.

He was going to crash (against the rules) with Kevin and Charlie until he could figure something out. So he let them study and wandered to the studio for some alone time. 

And now all he could do was mind-fuck the whole Dean situation. It was mid-way through Saturday, about 24 hours from when they last spoke, and Cas still didn’t know what to say. He stared at the painting hoping it would show him some sort of solution.

He had been working on the arch of Dean’s fingers as they caressed the side of Baby. He thought about those hands. They were strong, callused hands, the hands of a working man, yet there was volumes of care and tenderness in them as well. Cas was trying to translate this into the way Dean touched his precious car. He leaned into her side, careful not to put too much pressure on her, but using her as a way to hold himself up. The care he had for that vehicle made Cas jealous. 

But Dean showed Cas the same kind of care. He let him share his bed after a hard night, with no hesitation. Cas missed the feeling of Dean’s skin against his own. The safety of tucking Dean’s head under his chin, and the feel of waking up with someone, someone he cared a great deal for. Someone who was humping his leg.

Cas flushed at the memory, and he had to shift to rearrange his partial erection. Dean had been completely asleep, and his moaning had woken Cas. He was mumbling and said Cas’ name. Dean had gripped him tighter and sighed, and Cas could feel Dean go from soft to hard as a rock in the matter of seconds. He had thought he better wake him, so he wouldn’t be embarrassed, but that had somehow backfired. Cas thought now that maybe Dean had been dreaming about _him._

Duh, of course he was. Cas felt so stupid that he hadn’t reacted differently. How it could have been a really good thing. What he _should_ have done was reciprocated. He should have woken Dean and pulled him back to him when Dean backed away. He should have caressed Dean’s face and kissed him, tenderly, like Dean deserved. And Dean deserved to be taken care of. Cas would have taken care of him. Worshiped him. Touched every square inch of his body. Caressed him with his lips and tongue, sinking down on Dean until his cock hit the back of his throat.

Cas squeezed his cock- he shouldn’t have gotten carried away- now he didn’t have anywhere to go to relieve himself. In the halfway house was always the option of the shower, but the dorms had men’s and women’s communal showers, and he couldn’t walk across campus with a hard on anyway. He looked around him. The studio was deserted, most students actually took their weekends off, but he couldn’t do it out in the open. His eyes lit on the supply closet door. 

He walked quickly over, practically hunched over from the pressure. It had been a while. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t totally turned on by Dean humping his leg, but that disappeared as soon as Dean’s anger showed up. 

God, he was such an idiot. Of course he wanted Dean. 

The door was unlocked and he slipped in and turned the thumblock. There was one lone window up high by the ceiling, casting enough light into the small room so he didn’t have to turn on the lights. 

He scanned the shelves for something that could be used as lube. He walked further back hoping to to find maybe-

Huh. Actual lube. And condoms too. He guessed he wasn’t going to be the first person to defile the supply closet. This made him feel better about what he was about to do.

Cas grabbed the lube and walked back to where he saw some paper towels and grabbed a few. There were a couple of old chaise lounge chairs stacked- sometimes they painted with live models- with some sheets thrown over them. Cas fumbled his zipper down and pushed his jeans down to his ankles. He was going to need room to move. He squirted a bit of lube into his hand and gasped at how cold it was. He only then became aware of how cold it was in there- he had been distracted- and it was chilly. He decided to warm up.

He grasped his cock and groaned with the relief of just a small bit of pressure. He gave a few long strokes, deciding he was going to draw it out, and enjoy it. He thought about how Dean’s dick had slowly filled because he was dreaming of _him,_ how he could feel its length and heaviness against him. He could remember the shape of its head as it pressed against his leg. He imagined what it would be like to wiggle down to the same height as Dean and to feel it on the inside of his thigh instead. He sped his hand up, the lube making obscene noises in the quiet of the supply closet. He wondered if Dean would want to top or bottom. Cas himself was into either, but he hoped to god that Dean wanted to let Cas fuck him. 

Cas shivered, but not from the cold. A warmth bloomed in his chest and moved to his belly. He paused and put some lube on his fingers on his left hand. He resumed stroking himself, adding a little pressure, imagining Dean touching him for the first time, smiling up at him shyly, wanting to please him, to be good at it. Cas was sure that however Dean touched him would make him go off like a rocket. 

Cas imagined pushing Dean back and licking him behind his ear, and moving down to suck his cock. As much as he wanted to fuck Dean, the idea of reducing him to a shaking mess with his lips and tongue was really doing it for him. Cas pushed a finger into his hole and twisted in and out, barely registering the slight burn in favor of the intense fantasy of taking Dean into the back of his throat. He would relax his throat and suck him down, burying his nose right up against his skin, his lower lip touching Dean’s balls. 

He pushed a second finger in, searching for his prostate. He sped up his right hand and bit his lip to repress another groan. In his mind, Dean grabs his hair and pulls, then fucks Cas’ face, calling his name as he comes down his throat in waves-

Cas came with Dean’s name on his lips, arching off the couch, spilling over his fist when his fingers brushed his prostate. He came harder than he had in a long time. 

And honestly? That wasn’t the first time Dean’s name was present when he came all over himself. The first time he had done that was when Dean hugged him on the back porch of Coco’s. The second was when Dean was touching his thigh when they were watching a movie. There had been a couple of more times, but not for any particular reason. 

Because Dean was hot. And Cas was in love with him.

He found his own stupidity quite remarkable. 

He looked down at the cooling come on his hand and carefully cleaned up with the paper towel, tucking himself away. He could use a coke and a candy bar, so he put the lube back, thanking its owner silently, and went to the slop sink and scrubbed his hands. He headed to the vending machines jingling his change in his pocket. He had a renewed sense of hope; maybe he could ask Dean to meet him at the cafe before work, and they could talk. It would really be okay. And Cas would get to have something he always wanted- a real relationship. A deeper connection where he already had a profound one. This didn’t have to change their friendship, it would just make it even better. And if Dean just wanted to be friends with benefits, that was okay too.

Cas whistled as he walked to the English hall where the vending machines were.

“Castiel?” called a young girl hesitantly from behind him, “are you Castiel Novak?”

“Yeah,” Cas responded, his stomach sinking into his shoes. Something happened. He knew it.

“Your sister called the school looking for you earlier? She wanted me to give you her number, she said it was really important.” 

The poor girl (Hannah? Cas thought) looked so sad, he knew it had to be bad. He had been waiting for something like this to happen- his life was too good for something bad not to happen. 

He thanked her and ran back to the studio to grab his cell phone. With shaking fingers he dialed the number.

_My mom is dead, my mom is dead, my mom is dead…_ raced through his mind.

“Cas?” Anna’s voice sounded distant and small.

“Anna?” Cas responded, not knowing what else to say.

“Mom’s dead,” said Anna, not without sadness in her voice. 

Cas sighed and covered his face with his free hand and sank back into his chair. He rested his head against the back and waited for the tears to start.

“She had heart failure- they didn’t give an exact reason, but she was still drinking of course, and working at that place near Opryland? The one with the singing waiters?”

Cas nodded, then remembering he was on the phone, mumbled out a “yeah.” 

“They found her in her hotel room, apparently her boyfriend came to get her for work and found her still in bed. She had passed in the night.”

“Boyfriend?” Cas asked, “I didn’t even know. We haven’t talked in awhile.”

Anna made a noise that sounded like a snort. “Not surprised. They way she really rode you, no wonder you turned to drugs.”

There were so many things hurtful and wrong with that statement that Cas decided to dismiss it. 

“So are you coming in for the funeral?” he asked instead.

“Um, that’s what I needed to talk to you about,” Anna said, sounding apologetic, “I can’t afford to fly out there, and I need to be here for work.”

“What about this boyfriend of hers?” 

“I guess they hadn’t been involved that long. He is the one who called me when he found out who her next-of-kin were. Turns out she still owned our house and it goes to us. Bart? Or whatever his name was, was plenty pissed when I suggested he do the arrangements. So I was going to ask…”

“You were going to ask if I would do it,” Cas finished for her.

“Yeah,” she said, having the the grace to sound guilty, “I know it’s not what you had planned this weekend,” she laughed weakly, “but once it’s done, you have a house of your own! I know it’s no kind of consolation prize, but I’ll sign it over to you. I don’t want it; too many bad memories.”

“Oh and I had such great memories in it?” Cas said angrily, “I got out of there not long after you did, remember?”

“Yeah, well I thought you’d be happy to take the house because you and mom were closer,” Anna said defensively, “I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t know because you left!” Cas yelled, “You weren’t there and she was- You know what? I don’t really feel like doing this right now. Give me the name of the funeral home and I’ll take care of it. I’ll call you when it’s done.”

Anna rattled off the information and they said short goodbyes and hung up. 

Cas sat numbly holding the little slip of paper in his hands. He shakily folded it and unfolded it. He stuffed it in his pocket. He stood up, put on his coat and walked out the back door and headed to the dorms. About halfway there, he changed his direction and headed to the bus stop. His fingers stayed wrapped around his phone in his pocket, clenching and unclenching as he got on the bus and headed downtown. It would only be one transfer and he would be there. 

 

********

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...TO BE CONTINUED...
> 
> RIGHT NOW


	12. Cas Goes Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The darkness was oppressive. He reached out for the lightswitch, but predictably, the power was off. He assumed his mom had kept paying someone to mow the lawn to keep up appearances, but he could never understand why she bothered; the neighborhood already thought of it as the house the famous songwriter OD’d in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cas does some anger work.

Cas kicked at every rock in the garden looking for the right one. He was hoping in all the years he had been gone, his mom had forgotten about the spare key hidden in a fake rock in the garden. It was one of those gadgets you can buy on SkyMall, and his mom was all about useless luxury items. The royalty checks from his dad’s songs were still coming in, and Cas didn’t know the amount, but it was enough to keep up the taxes on the house and keep Naomi in a fancy hotel room while she sang at the saloon, still hoping she would get discovered.

His foot hit a painted lump that wasn’t actually that convincing at being a rock. The paint had faded, and if he hadn’t been crying, he would have noticed that it stuck out like a sore thumb. He flipped it and dug the keys out of the secret compartment. 

The deadbolt screeched from disuse, but his mom had thankfully been too self-absorbed to change the locks, which made Cas wonder why he didn’t break in a long time ago. As soon as he opened the door he remembered why.

The darkness was oppressive. He reached out for the lightswitch, but predictably, the power was off. He assumed his mom had kept paying someone to mow the lawn to keep up appearances, but he could never understand why she bothered; the neighborhood already thought of it as the house the famous songwriter OD’d in. 

He reached in his pocket and pulled out the zippo Dean had given him. He had just filled it the morning before- it was hard to believe that all the stuff with Dean had only happened yesterday.

The windows were covered with heavy cloths, and think with dust. He started pulling them down, trying to get the dying sunlight to help light the room. It was near sunset, and he was late for his shift. He probably should have called, but he didn’t know what to say. _My mom died and now I have to be the executor of her estate and wanted to go to my old house and torture myself with memories for a while?_ That was the closest thing to the truth.

The dust was thick on everything, causing him to sneeze a few times. He wandered into the hallway and and looked at the pictures hanging on the walls. The faded photographs were so deceiving. His mom and dad smiling, him and Anna as kids, family vacations. The photos only showed up until a few years before his dad died. There was nothing anyone wanted to remember after that. So the hallway was a grim memorial to the What Could Have Been, and it stabbed Cas like a knife. He pulled a photo taken when his parents took him and Anna to the Opryland theme park that was long gone. They were sitting by the stages, his mom in costume, and a fellow performer presumably taking the shot. They looked so happy, even his dad, and a young 6 year old Cas was smiling so hard with gappy teeth. Cas glared at the image of his mom, unable to keep his hands from shaking.

He wasn’t sure the exact second when he snapped, but he knows he heard the glass shatter as the threw the picture as hard as he could at the opposite wall. His hands were a blur as he wrenched the photos off the wall, one by one, hurling them as hard as he could, bits of plaster puffing up every time a frame corner struck the wall with enough force. He kept going, hearing something in the background, realizing a second later that it was him screaming at the top of his lungs. He came to the last picture and stopped. 

It was a school picture of him at age 10, sitting properly, eyes forward, blank look on his face. Cas watched as tears fell from his chin and landed on the dusty glass. He slid to the floor, cradling the picture in his arms and openly sobbing for the little boy who had lost so much. Who had only a brief childhood, then was thrust upon the world to fend for himself. 

Cas heaved and sobbed, losing all track of time and space, just letting years of rage and sadness and loss pour from him. He clutched the photograph as it was grounding him to reality. 

When the sobs became hiccups, Cas fished around in his coat pocket for a tissue when his fingers brushed over his phone. He pulled it out, along with a tissue or two, and wiped his nose. He stared at his phone, occasionally hiccuping. The phone weighed a ton. His fingers felt like lead and the keys were stiff. He had a bunch of missed calls and texts, but he’d been ignoring them for a while now. He pushed the contacts button and scrolled. He had a few options of who he could call, but there was only one person he wanted there with him at that moment.

He pushed send and waited while the line connected. It was barely a half a ring when it was picked up.

“Cas, man, where are you? Are you okay?” Dean’s voice sounded panicked, strained, “I’ve been trying to reach you for hours.”

 

Cas’ face lit up in a watery smile. He hiccuped. 

“I’m sorry Dean,” he sniffled, “I found out my mom died, and I just sort of...I don’t know...didn’t handle it well?”

“I know, and I’m so sorry this happened,” Dean said, voice steady and calming.

“You know?” Cas asked, confused.

“Yeah, I went looking for you and Hannah at the reception desk said you had gotten a message from your sister and you went all pale. She gave me the number and I called Anna. She filled me in, Cas,” Dean paused, “I am so sorry, what can I do to help?” 

Dean sounded so sure of himself, so supportive. He had cast aside his own problems to be there for Cas. Not because he had to but because he wanted to. Cas was elated. Dean had freaked out and called Cas’ sister because he was so worried. He sagged in his position on the floor, photo still clutched in hand.

“I’m at my mom’s house,” he said in a small voice, “can you come get me?”

“Of course, I’m already in the car, just tell me where, and I’m there.”

Cas smiled again, more tears slipping out and rolling down his face. At least the hiccuping had stopped. 

“I’m on Sweetbriar. You know, the one off Belmont? We passed it that one time and I said-”

“‘Sweetbriar, nothing sweet about it,’ yeah I remember, Cas,” Dean chuckled, “now I know why, I guess.”

Cas felt a warmth bloom in his chest again. Dean was so amazing. He remembered a comment from weeks ago said offhandedly when driving down a random road. 

Cas gave Dean the house number and heard Baby’s engine race. Her wheels squealed as Dean accelerated; Baby was bringing Dean home to Cas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I split it up into two pieces because they had two distinct feelings.


	13. The Nickel Tour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey buddy,” Dean said, trying to not come off as condescending, “you ready to go? Or you feel like hanging out in this spooky-ass house some more?”
> 
> Cas huffed a small laugh and his face washed over in relief. Dean was glad they could just put their stuff on hold and be there with each other. 
> 
> Cas smirked, “I don’t know, it’s kind of nice here in my dead parent’s house, very _film noir,_ you should get some shots of me while I mumble an inner monologue.”
> 
> Dean laughed, feeling more at ease. “Geez, you’ve finally out-emoed yourself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:
> 
> *Graphic depiction of heroin use and overdose  
> *Past house fire  
> *Verbal and emotional abuse (past)  
> *A somewhat ridiculous amount of hand-holding  
> *Hand-holding PG13

Dean pulled up at the stately large 1920’s style house on Sweetbriar Avenue. The neighborhood had changed over the past 10 years, and Dean anticipated that it would continue to develop in the next 10. There were renovations happening on both sides of Naomi’s house, and another one across the street. The working class was moving out, and the business class was moving in. Naomi’s house would be worth three times what it was bought for in the eighties. 

Dean walked carefully to the open door.

“Cas?” he said cautiously, still on edge from the earlier panic Cas’ disappearance had caused. 

“Dean? I’m in here,” came a hoarse voice, “be careful there’s glass.”

Dean stepped into the gloom. It was well past sunset and it was dark as night in the entryway. The power must be out.

“Hold on, Cas,” he called, jogging back to the Impala, “I’m going to get a flashlight.”

“Okay,” came the faint response.

Dean popped Baby’s trunk and lifted up the false bottom. He had a veritable traveling house back there; being on the move growing up meant he needed to feel the safety of always being prepared. It was more than once that he and his brother had to sleep in the car before they got their first apartment and left John for good. 

He pulled out a Maglite flashlight and shut the hood, jogging back to the front door of the house, his gut in knots over what he might see when he flicked on the switch. He took a deep breath and held it.

Cas was further down the entryway, sitting against a wall in the hallway, clutching a framed photo. Other than a mess of black eyeliner and red puffy eyes, he looked okay. Dean exhaled..

“Hey buddy,” Dean said, trying to not come off as condescending, “you ready to go? Or you feel like hanging out in this spooky-ass house some more?”

Cas huffed a small laugh and his face washed over in relief. Dean was glad they could just put their stuff on hold and be there with each other. 

Cas smirked, “I don’t know, it’s kind of nice here in my dead parent’s house, very _film noir,_ you should get some shots of me while I mumble an inner monologue.”

Dean laughed, feeling more at ease. “Geez, you’ve finally out-emoed yourself.”

“You want a tour?” Cas held his out hand so Dean could pull him up off the floor.

“I’ll take the nickel tour of the infamous Castiel Novak’s childhood home, yes,” Dean responded.

Cas was still holding the picture, tucked under his arm, and he didn’t let go of Dean’s hand after he stood. Dean wasn’t complaining. Cas’ fingers felt soft and cold, probably since he had sat on the floor so long. It wasn’t awkward as Dean had feared- and he wouldn’t let go because he knew Cas needed the touch to ground him. Cas shifted his hand to lace their fingers together. Dean flushed. He desperately tried not to think what it meant. 

Cas lead Dean down the hall and up the stairs. They were wide and solid, with a sweeping banister. Dean could imagine a young Castiel sliding down that banister to breakfast before school with a happy smile on his face. Something told him there weren’t many smiles in this house when he was a child, though. 

Cas room was empty. The faded wallpaper was a blue pinstripe, and the curtains were a dusty blue to match. The there were lighter squares and rectangles spanning the walls, some clustered in corners; there was almost no evidence of it’s former resident.

Cas scoffed. “Figures.”

Dean waited for him to continue, but he just turned and led Dean down the hall to the master bedroom. 

The large four-poster bed dominated the room, and was covered in plastic sheeting. The furniture was uncovered and held a thick layer of dust like the rest of the house. There were no personal items visible. A large discolored rectangle was on the wall; similar to the ones in Cas’ room. 

Dean turned to ask Cas what used to be there, but his question died in his throat. Cas was staring at a door across the room. It could have been a closet, but Dean guessed it was the bathroom. His fingers started to tremble in Dean’s grip. Dean began to stroke Cas fingers with his free hand, staring intently at Cas’ face, wondering what he could do to help.

“It was about 7:45 in the morning, and Anna and I were getting ready for school. I was nine. My father was a writer full-time, so that meant he could be home with us kids every day and get us to and from places and feed us and whatnot. My mom was on the road with someone at the time- Charlie Daniels? Tanya Tucker? I can’t remember.

“It was strange that my dad hadn’t popped his head in my room as he did just about every morning, but he had been ‘sick’ quite a bit over the previous months, so neither of us were concerned. I went downstairs to make some cereal. 

“Dad still hadn’t shown up by 8:00, so I began to get worried. Even though he would lock himself in the study for hours at a time, writing and playing guitar, he still managed to see us off to school. I figured he must still be in bed, maybe with a cold. I distinctly remember thinking how cool it would be to bring my dad breakfast in bed just like he used to do for us when we were sick home from school. 

“The bed was empty and looked like it hadn’t been slept in. My first thought was either he left the house or hadn’t gone to sleep yet. I knew about drugs even back then. You didn’t go to Grammy parties or Christmas parties in the eighties and not see music industry people getting high in one way or another. I hadn’t been through the D.A.R.E. program at that point, but Anna had, and she told me that I had to keep my mouth shut about what went on at our house and at those parties, or the state would come take us away. I solemnly swore to never say a word to anyone. 

“I kept telling myself that dad had to be locked in the studio, writing, but I didn’t turn around and go look. I felt my feet propel me to the bathroom door. Anna and I were not allowed in there, now I know why, but I wanted to take a look anyway. Just to see. 

“He was slumped against the bathtub, on the floor, where he had been shooting up. His rig was still hanging from his vein, and the rubber tie-off he used was still wrapped around his arm, and it had turned his arm an alarming shade of blue. He was grey-faced and his eyes were blank and cloudy, staring toward the door, his head turned to me. 

 

“My mind couldn’t handle it, and all I could think was, ‘guess he won’t be needing breakfast after all.’- I’m not sure how long I stood there until Anna came looking for me and pulled me out. She must have called 911, because the only part I can remember after that was a lady from the government talking to Anna and I, asking where our mother was. There was a blanket around my shoulders. I must have been in shock.

“My mom had to come home early from the tour. Sometimes when she was very drunk, which became more often than not, she would tell me if I wasn’t so lazy and had woken up earlier, I could have saved him. Anna told me later that dad had died several hours earlier, that’s why he never made it to bed. There’s nothing either of us could do. I think my mom needed to blame me because she felt responsible because she wasn’t here when it happened. It had to be somebody's fault. Why not me? I was his favorite, after all. That’s what she used to tell me. She’d also say I’d grow up to be just like him and suffer for my art and never be truly happy; that life would be a never ending disappointment. In the end, it was easier to become what she thought I was already.” 

Cas stopped and looked back at Dean. While he had been speaking, Dean had slowly walked him over to a settee along the wall and settled onto it with Cas’ back laying against his chest so Dean could wrap his arms around him. Cas looked around like he didn’t know how he got there, then relaxed back into Dean’s arms. 

“I’m sorry,” Dean whispered, “I’m sorry that happened to you. You were just a little kid. You didn’t deserve that and it wasn’t your fault.” 

Cas rested his head back on Dean’s shoulder, his temple grazing Dean’s stubbled cheek. Dean reached up and combed his fingers through Cas’ wild hair and the two sat in silence. The beam from the flashlight was aimed at the door in question, lighting it like a theatrical device, a setting of a past event that shaped the man in his arms.

Dean sighed. He had the idea that Cas hadn’t ever told anyone about finding his dad. He felt honored that Cas would trust him with something so important. Especially after the fight they had. Dean’s chest ached with the memory of rejection, but he felt conflicted by the position he found himself in. Cas was very vulnerable, and had let Dean in. Didn’t that mean he loved him? 

Dean pushed those thoughts from his mind. What was important was to protect the fragile trust built between them. He took a deep breath, counted to five, then exhaled slowly.

“Did I ever tell you about my mom?” he asked Cas.

Cas shook his head slightly, his hair tickling Dean’s ear. 

“I know I have a completely biased opinion, but she really was the best mom in the entire world. She used to make this soup when I was sick…

“When Sammy came along, in 1985, we were living in a cozy thee bedroom house in West Nashville. It was a fairly good neighborhood, and my parents bought the house because they wanted me and Sammy to go to good schools. My dad was a mechanic at Bobby’s garage, and made pretty good money. My mom was staying home with us, but planned to go back to teaching second grade when Sam got older. Things were damn near perfect, if my memory serves me correct. 

“There had been a string of unexplained fires that summer. Mostly warehouses, sometimes abandoned houses. When they investigated the scenes, the ignition and accelerant were the same, but they couldn’t figure out what the link was between the locations. They didn’t really understand the concept of a serial arsonist; they thought there was no way someone that evil would be terrorizing our little city. The news made a few reports on it, because the fire chief wasn’t getting anywhere in his investigation, and Fan Fare was about to start up, and bad publicity might mean less tourist dollars. And tourist dollars meant a lot more back then than they do now. 

“Back then, we didn’t have luxury of air conditioning in our house, so we kept the windows propped open and box fans wedged in them all night. Admittedly,it wasn’t the safest thing, but I never thought anything about it, because my dad was big and strong and he would protect us. 

“One night I woke up to a horrible chemical smell and my dad shaking me awake. I remember him hauling me out the front door and pushing a bundle of Sam into my arms. He told me to stay there and he would be back when he got mom. As he was running into the house, the upstairs exploded and he was thrown back several feet. Me and Sammy were across the street and I was still pushed backwards onto the grass. But we were okay. The fire department arrived around that time, and they dragged dad away and wouldn’t let him go back in. He took a swing at one of the firefighters, but he didn’t have much left in him by then. I fell asleep in the Impala with Sam until it was all over. 

“My mom was the first casualty from the fires. After that, there were no more. The cops said that the arsonist may not have been trying to kill anyone, but- why would he target a house where the people were home in it? Anyway, the cops said that he must have fled the city because he was afraid of getting caught. They never arrested anyone or even had any suspects. Forensic technology was pretty primitive back then, so they had little to work with.

“And just like that, everything I ever thought my life would be like was gone. It’s hard to have dreams about the future when you’re just trying to survive the day. Dad was always working or drunk, so the responsibility for Sammy fell to me. I never minded, it made me feel important. Useful. Like I had a hand in how awesome he turned out.”

Cas squeezed his hand and chuckled. “Yeah, he turned out awesome, but so did you.”

“Hey you’re not supposed to be the one comforting,” Dean said lightly, “that’s my job.”

“And you’re pretty awesome at that too, Dean. Thank you.”

Cas sat forward a little and turned so he could look Dean in the eye. “Thank you for sharing that with me. I know…” Cas smiled, “just, thank you. For everything.”

The sincerity in Cas’ voice made something in Dean’s chest loosen. He felt lighter. In the darkness, it was hard to make out the exact color of Cas’ eyes, but Dean could still feel them on him like laser beams. They were only inches apart. But Dean didn’t want to assume anything, or to have a first kiss with Cas in his dead parents house after barfing grief up all over each other. 

So he smiled and squeezed Cas once more before moving him forward so they could stand. Dean swore he saw a flash of disappointment cross Cas’ face, but it was pretty dark in there.

Cas stretched his arms high over his head, popping his back in a few places while Dean grabbed the flashlight. 

“Oh, shit,” Cas said while yawning, “I am going to feel that tomorrow.”

Dean automatically reached for Cas’ hand and wound their fingers together again. Cas sighed a small sigh, and led Dean back out of the room.

“Have you eaten today, Cas?” Dean asked suddenly, “Because I think we should eat. I’m starving.”

“You’re always starving,” Cas responded, rolling his eyes fondly.

When the house was locked up, Dean watched as Cas fumbled around in his pocket looking for something. 

“What is it?” Dean asked, unlocking Baby.

“It’s just,” Cas said, “I haven’t had a key for a while, and I have a- ah, here it is!” 

He held up his one day clean keytag triumphantly. “It’s weird to think that tomorrow I’ll be celebrating a year.”

He held up the key and began working it onto the ring of the white tag. “I have all the other tags: 30 days, 60 days, six months, nine months, but this one...I keep it with me. It reminds me when things get bad, they could always be made worse, if I choose to get high.”

He stared silently at the key and the tag, brows furrowed.

“So have you thought about what you’re going to do with the house?” asked Dean, hoping for a subject change. He felt a little guilty for thinking Cas might have relapsed earlier.

Cas shook his head. “No, I have no idea. I hate it, but I love it. You know? It represents all the awful shit I went through growing up, but it also represents opportunity, I guess. I’m going to have to think about it. Did I tell you Anna said she would sign the deed over to me?”

Dean shook his head, “no but Anna told me when I talked to her.”

“Jesus, Dean, how long were you on the phone with her?” Cas sounded irritated, but when Dean turned to look at him, he had a funny smile on his blotchy, tear and eyeliner streaked face. 

“Long enough to learn your childhood nickname,” Dean snickered.

Cas buried his face in his hands. “Oh god, no. I’m going to kill her. Please tell me you didn’t tell anyone else.”

“I didn’t.”

“Thank god,” Cas said, flopping back in his seat.

“Except Anna and Kevin.”

 

“AGGGGHH!” Cas threw his arms over his eyes dramatically and burst into giggles, which set Dean off. They laughed way longer than necessary, until tears streamed from Dean’s eyes. He almost had to pull over, but they calmed down because Cas’ stomach growled loudly.

“Oh damn. I guess I didn’t get to eat all day. I usually have dinner at work… Fuck Fuck Fuck! I haven’t called work,” Cas groaned, dragging a hand through his hair.

“I’m sure it’s fine, I actually, um…” Dean bit his lip, suddenly worried that Cas might get pissed. 

Cas narrowed his eyes. “You what…”

“I called Gabe when we couldn’t find you and told him about your mom and then I called him when I knew you were safe,” Dean said, all in one breath, “I’m sorry.”

Dean waited for a response. They stopped at a red light, and he chanced a look over at Cas. He was met with a soft surprised smile, and shining eyes. 

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said softly, sounding a little awed, “You didn’t have- just...thank you. Gabe probably told Kali what happened.”

“I’m sorry I told your business,” Dean said, “it wasn’t mine to tell.”

Cas reached his hand across the seat and picked up Dean’s and laced their fingers back together. He held them up to his mouth and kissed each of Dean’s knuckles gently. Just light little pecks. Dean’s face flushed and he shifted in his seat as heat shot through him like a current from his fingers to his groin.

“Oh, sorry,” said Cas, putting their joined hands back on the seat.

“No,” Dean said too quickly, “It’s all good.” He tightened his grip a little as they pulled into the apartment complex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cas has a nickname....hmmmm....what should it be? *Aggressively ignores all the angst and focuses on fluffy nickname trope*


	14. They Finally Do The Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dean, shouldn’t we go to the bedroom?”
> 
> Dean’s almost violent shudder was his answer. “Say that again, Cas.”
> 
> Cas smiled wickedly. He had been told his voice was pure sex, but he never cared about it until this moment.
> 
> “Dean,” he growled, dropping his voice an octave, “take me to bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okaaaaayyyyy so here's some porn
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS:
> 
> *Cas is a little dom, Dean is a wee bit sub  
> *Dean finally went back to the adult book store  
> *Aw yeah gratuitous smutfest   
> *Cas is almost Scarlet O'Hara if you squint

Sam nearly knocked Cas to the ground when he walked in the door. His gangly arms wrapped tightly around Cas’ chest and squeezed. After grunting and returning the hug, Sam let him go and looked at him sternly.

“Don’t do that. I was worried about you. Are you okay?”

Cas grinned at Sam’s seriousness.

“Of course he’s okay, Sam,” Dean said, pushing past them, rolling his eyes, “and he’s hungry. So let’s order pizza and put on a bad movie. It’s been a long day, and no, we don’t want to talk about it.”

Cas’ smile grew even bigger. He was riding a roller coaster of emotions. Just moments ago, he was feeling a tightness in his chest worrying that he had let Sam down. And now, Dean’s gruff protectiveness made his heart swell with affection. 

When Dean disappeared to the kitchen to get the the pizza place’s number, Sam turned to Cas.

“I assume by the puppy look on your face that you and Dean talked?” he asked.

Cas looked at him alarmed. “What? Did he say something? What did he say? Is he okay?”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “Okaaaaay…” he drawled, “I guess you didn’t talk. I don’t want to step on his toes, but he was torn to shreds when you left here yesterday.”

Again, it seemed to be years since Cas was last at the Winchester’s house. He tried not to let it overwhelm him.

“Oh?” Cas said, trying to sound casual, but failing miserably.

Sam chuckled. “Geez, you guys need to get your shit together. Just jump him and be done with it. But not while I’m here. I don’t feel like being scarred for life, thanks.”

Cas flushed a deep red and choked on his spit.

Dean chose that exact moment to return to the living room.

“Cas! You alright?” Dean shot Sam an accusatory look. Sam just smiled innocently back, while Cas grew an even darker shade of red. Dean thumped him on the back and then rubbed in small circles.

“The pizza should be here in 45. You want to pick the movie, Cas?” Dean asked, leaving his hand on Cas’ back.

Trying not to lean too much into the intimate touch, Cas smiled nervously at Dean.

“Wow, the Couch Commando himself is going to let me pick the movie? Mah stahs, what is the world comin’ to?” Cas said in his best Southern Belle accent, throwing the back of his hand to his forehead.

Dean smirked and pushed Cas over to the couch, setting him down and walking over to the tall shelves of dvds and vhs tapes to rattle off titles until Cas picked something.

_“Princess Bride,”_ Cas said resolutely.

Dean hitched his eyebrows up and looked back at him. A smile threatened to slip across his face, which he hid by turning around and busying himself with getting it started.

Cas watched in amusement- he knew it was secretly Dean’s favorite- no matter how much he swore it was _Apocolypse Now._

Dean dimmed the lamp and joined Cas on the couch. Sam snickered from the dining table where he was doing homework. Dean shot him an evil look, then grabbed Cas’ legs and pulled them across his lap. Cas’ heart leapt and he tried to keep his heart from bursting out of his chest. His pants felt a little tight. 

The movie started, and from his position Cas watched Dean from the corner of his eye, mouthing all the words to the scene with Columbo and _The Wonder Years_ kid. It was adorable. He supposed he should be paying attention to the movie.

The pizza came when Fezzik was trying to crush the Man in Black on the big rocks, so they paused it and set up dinner. Soon Cas was feeling 20 times better. He forgot how eating a meal made him think clearer and feel more normal.

He settled deeper into the couch and stared unabashedly at the side of Dean’s face for the rest of the movie. Or at least until Dean woke him up to go to bed. Sam was nowhere in sight.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” Cas said, yawning, “I missed the best part.”

Dean smirked. “So what’s the best part?”

Cas returned the smirk. “The part where you get up and invisible sword fight yelling, ‘hello, my name is Inigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die.”

Dean burst into laughter and Cas admired how his entire face lit up. 

“Don’t worry,” Dean said, still chuckling, “I didn’t do it this time.”

“Why not?”

“Well,” Dean said affectionately, “you weren’t watching.”

Cas huffed a laugh out. “I’m ready for bed...do you want me to sleep on the couch?” he said awkwardly.

“No!” said Dean quickly, “I mean you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’m okay with you sleeping...um, sharing, um...ugh! You know what I mean.”

Cas laughed at Dean’s frustration and sat up and stroked his shoulder.

“Thank you, Dean. For everything.”

Dean looked at the floor and shrugged. “You’d do the same for me.”

Cas lifted a finger to Dean’s chin, turning his head up to face him. Dean’s breath hitched slightly, and Cas watched his pupils enlarge. They sat still for a moment, inches apart, until Dean’s eyelids fluttered shut. Cas moved in the last distance, closing his own eyes and savoring the first press of their lips, the gentle meeting of flesh, the promise of more to come. Dean melted forward into him, grasping at Cas’ shoulders, hanging on to him. Cas slipped an arm around him and pulled him closer to his chest, as much as his legs still being across Dean’s lap would allow. He needed more. They were touching lips lightly, over and over, changing angles, parting lips slightly, but still tender and gentle. Cas drew in a breath and sucked Dean’s lower lip into his mouth, ran his tongue over the captured lip, then released it, pulling back to catch eyes with Dean. The hunger that suddenly appeared was unmistakeable, so Cas dove back in, slipping his tongue into Dean’s parted lips, eliciting a low moan and shifting of his hips. Taking the cue, Cas turned without detaching the kiss and threw a leg over Dean’s thighs to straddle his lap and grind down. They both shuddered and groaned at the pressure. Dean’s hands were frantically mapping out Cas’ back and neck, thrusting his fingers into his wild hair, tugging slightly. This spurned Cas to grind down again and practically devour Dean’s mouth, panting breaths and sucking on his tongue. Dean let Cas take the lead and tilted his head back when Cas moved to his jawline to lap up the salty taste of dried sweat and breathe in deeply the scent of leather and motor oil. He bit down on Dean’s pulsepoint, causing him to writhe and make noises Cas had never heard before. Cas was fully erect, pressed achingly against his zipper, feeling himself leaking in his boxers. He felt Dean’s cock press against inner part of his thigh and suddenly they were wearing far too many clothes. 

“Dean, shouldn’t we go to the bedroom?”

Dean’s almost violent shudder was his answer. “Say that again, Cas.”

Cas smiled wickedly. He had been told his voice was pure sex, but he never cared about it until this moment.

“Dean,” he growled, dropping his voice an octave, “take me to bed.”

Dean grabbed Cas under the ass and ground him into his lap, moaning and opening up for another deep kiss, his swollen lips pliant under Cas’ teeth and tongue. He was so responsive, and Cas thrilled at his compliance at letting Cas lead.

Cas stood and grabbed Dean’s hand practically dragging him stumbling and adjusting his dick as he went. 

“Is Sam here?” Cas asked, suddenly worried about the whole ‘scarring him for life’ thing. 

“Gone to a fr-friends house,” Dean stuttered, his eyes only a ring of grass green bordering a pool of back. Cas wanted to devour him right there in the hallway. He slammed Dean against the wall and held him still with his left hand as he sunk to his knees unbuckling his belt with his right. His fingers shook in anticipation. He wanted to feel Dean’s cock against his cheek, feel the weight of it in his hand, and taste the bitter-saltiness of his pre-come.

He jerked Dean’s pants to his ankles, still holding Dean steady- who was looking like he might pass out from the sight of Cas looking up at him.

Cas buried his face in Dean’s boxer-clad groin and breathed in the smell of arousal and _Dean_ , causing a stuttering moan from above.

“Jesus Fucking Christ, Cas,” Dean breathed out, “so fucking beautiful.”

Cas had been called beautiful before, but it never matter before now. He held Dean’s hips still and pressed his open mouth along the length of Dean’s cock, firmly pressing his thumbs into the spot beside Dean’s hip bones, making small circles. Dean was coming apart above him. Cas looked up and caught his eyes, his face causing an electric shot of pleasure to rocket to his own groin. He had to let go of Dean to press and stroke himself quickly to relieve pressure. 

Cas reached back up and clawed at the waistband of dean’s boxers, no longer patient, and ripping them down. Dean’s dick sprang out, grazing Cas’ cheek, causing him to moan and close his eyes until his head quit swimming. When Cas opened his eyes he was greeted with the sight of Dean, debauched, cock twitching against Cas’ cheek, head leaking copiously. He took his shaft in hand, stroking lightly without much pressure. Dean hissed and thrust forward slightly, trying for more friction. Cas breathed across the head and flicked his tongue across the slit, tasting him. Dean dribbled out more pre-come, shouting out and swearing and praising Cas. Cas grinned and lolled his tongue out to swirl over the frenulum, pausing to tongue the slit again. He’d been told he was good at giving head, but he never gave a damn until now. 

He felt a burst of fire hit his own groin, and he couldn’t help but push Dean’s cock in between his spit-slicked lips and press forward until he relaxed his throat and took him all the way to the hilt. He pulled backward slowly, sucking harder than necessary, feeling Dean’s pre-come coat his throat and tongue as he pulled off with a pop. Dean grabbed his head to steady himself as he legs almost gave out. 

“Cas, I,” Dean said, swallowing, “I need to- can we-”

“Yeas, Dean,” Cas hummed, pulling off Dean’s pants off all way so they could walk the rest of the way to the bedroom. As an afterthought, he pulled Dean’s shirt off too. He paused and took in the expanse of freckled, tan skin, flushed and coated in a sheen of sweat.

“ _You’re_ beautiful,” he murmured, running fingers over Dean’s collarbone, raising goosebumps in the coolness of the hallway. Dean’s eyes fluttered shut, his chest heaving with shallow breaths. Cas had to get him horizontal like _now._

Cas steered a very naked Dean the rest of the way into his room, pausing to shut the door behind him. Dean sat on the edge of the mattress, regarding Cas with nervous, lust-filled eyes; his flushed, leaking cock bobbing against his stomach. Cas reminded himself that this was most likely Dean’s first time with a guy. He had an idea of what to do to put him more at ease.

Cas stepped back and slowly unbuckled his belt, letting it slide through the loops and drop to the ground. He kept his eyes on his face, while Dean’s roamed all over, taking in every detail he could. Cas unbuttoned his jeans, sighing when the pressure was relieved. He slid his hand in between his boxers and pants, squeezing himself once or twice- he watched as Dean’s cock jumped at this. 

In one fluid motion, Cas removed his shirt. He let it fall to the floor before sliding both jeans and underwear down and off. Then he stood there and let Dean _look._ His heart pounded at feeling so, well, _naked_ in front of Dean.

Dean let out a long shaky breath. Cas turned so Dean could see the rest. 

“They’re beautiful, Cas,” Dean whispered, “did you design all of them?”

It was the first time Cas had ever let anyone see all of his tattoos at once. In the past, sexual encounters didn’t require anything but partial nudity, so this was a new experience for him too. 

There were the wings, of course, in black and gray, twisting around his arms, covering older track marks. They went up, over his shoulders to his back and were done in a way that made it look like they were growing from his scapulae. Across his chest, below his collar line, were Old English letters spelling out, “Childlike Faith,” the scrollwork was delicate and refined. The Sacred Heart was tattooed on his breastbone, complete with piercing arrow and crown. There was a rectangle of symbols on his left hip, and a pentagram on his right, the latter surrounded by a tribal sun. The Serenity Prayer was on his left ribs, and “Take my will and my life, Guide me in my recovery, and show me how to live, Just For Today” tattooed on his right ribs. All were in black and gray shades, his pale skin acting as the highlights and white. The only color was in the heart, blue and red, completing a realism version of a usually Traditional tattoo. 

Cas walked closer to Dean, still keeping an open posture, fighting the urge to hide himself. He reached the bed and Dean parted his thighs so Cas could stand between. Dean raised his hands and looked up at Cas, as if asking permission, and received a slight nod to begin exploring. 

Dean ran his fingertips over the sigils on his hips, tracing upward to the prayers on his ribs. Cas squirmed, trying not to laugh at being tickled, but of course Dean got a wicked grin for a split second, but then resumed his touch. Cas was positive Dean was saving the tickling for later. 

Dean’s hands came to a rest over Cas’ heart. Dean looked back up into his eyes, questioning, emploring. Cas responded by leaning down and capturing his lips once again, first soft, then quickly hungry, blood rushing back to his cock in record speed.

Cas pushed Dean backwards and straddled his hips. They moaned simultaneously when their dicks brushed. Cas leaned back down to Dean and sucked his lip, pressing their pelvises together and thrusting in a circle. They were quickly panting into each other’s mouths, kissing uncoordinatedly, and Dean letting out the occasional whimper. Cas leaned back to look down at him.

“I know it’s your first time, and I’m fine with whatever you want to do,” Cas said in a low voice, “we can just do this if you want to, don’t feel pressured-”

“Cas,” Dean interrupted, “shut up and just...look in the bedside table.” Dean swallowed audibly and blushed.

_So pretty,_ thought Cas as he tilted his head and squinted at Dean, _how did I get so lucky?_

Without breaking eye contact, Cas reached for the drawer. He fumbled for the knob and pulled it open. He broke away and leaned over slightly to see it’s contents, fully expecting condoms and lube.

That was in there. Both condoms and lube were in there.

But that wasn’t all.

Cas gaped at the contents of the drawer: three anal plugs- a blue one, a larger one in black, and a gray one with a vibrating function. There was also a eleven-inch silicone realistic-looking dildo. 

Interesting. 

Cas tore his wide eyes away from from the toys and looked back at Dean. Dean had a sheepish, embarrassed smile on his face.

“I guess you could say,” said Dean, “I already know what I want you to do for me.”

Cas thought he might hyperventilate. His mind was bombarded with images of Dean fucking himself on all of the toys, eyes screwed shut, mouth hanging open in a silent scream, coming in stripes across his chest-

Cas hand to close his eyes and squeeze the base of his dick to keep from putting an early end to the night. 

“Oh my fucking God, Dean,” he breathed, opening his eyes again, “you are going to the the death of me.”

“Is that a good thing?” 

“Fucking fuck, it is _such_ a good thing,” Cas responded, grabbing just the lube and a condom, and sliding the drawer shut again, “and fun for next time.”

Dean’s face brightened noticeably and his nervousness vanished. He reached over to Cas and pulled him back down to him and kissed him hard. They shifted so Cas was between Dean’s legs, rocking against him. Dean was mumbling between sloppy kisses, little bits of praise or swearing nonsensically. He moved to lick around Cas’ ear, sucking on the skin behind. Cas shivered and pressed down again.

“Cas, I want you to fuck me,” Dean growled, directly into Cas’ ear.

Cas was down between Dean’s thighs in seconds. He caressed his cock and moved his hands down to his balls, then drew a line down his perineum, all while kissing the soft hairless skin of Dean’s inner thighs. Cas could feel Dean’s hole flutter and pulse at his touch. 

“I’m going to take care of you, Dean,” he murmured into Dean’s thigh, moving to lick along the crease of Dean’s groin and leg. He left dark marks there, sucking the skin between his teeth, then licking the reddened skin. Dean was very vocal about it, and thrust his fingers into Cas’ hair and parted his legs wider, exposing himself, drawing his knees closer to his chest.

“Please, Cas, _Please,_ ” begged Dean.

“Please what, Dean?” asked Cas coyly. He just wanted to hear him say it one more time. 

“Fuck me already,” Dean said impatiently, “just do something, I- can’t, ah- I- ah, oh my G- oh fuck Cas your mouth-”

Cas took the opportunity to both press one finger into Dean’s entrance and take the tip of his dick into his mouth. His other hand was holding himself up, so he shifted to his knees to balance better and roll Dean’s balls as well. His finger was barely breaching Dean, only slick with spit, but Cas was twisting slowly and knew Dean could feel every nerve ending on fire, pain and pleasure combining. Dean tried to push back on his finger, for him to go deeper, but Cas just hummed a teasing no around his mouthful of cock and slid his finger out to reach for the lube. He pulled off Dean with an obscene, wet pop, and made a show of spreading lube over his fingers. Dean was a writhing mess beneath him.

“I’m going to take such good care of you Dean,” Cas promised, “I’m going to make you feel so good, because you make me feel so good by just _existing_ , and you deserve to feel good. You deserved to be fucked into this mattress and to come violently and black out from it, to scream my name until the neighbors bang on the walls.”

Dean reached down for his cock, and Cas batted his hand away. “I got this,” Cas said, slowing the blood flow at the base of Dean’s dick for him with his thumb.

Cas moved back up Dean’s body and laid half on top of him, straddling Dean’s right leg, pushing his erection into his hip. He plunged his tongue into Dean’s mouth again at the same time he pressed a slick finger against his hole and pushed, breaching him and passing his second knuckle, with a twist. Dean arched his back and cried out, again pushing back onto Cas’s hand.

Cas began pumping his finger in and out, pulling at Dean’s rim to relax the muscle. Dean was moaning into Cas’ mouth, babbling and kissing messily. 

“More,” Dean said, “I can take more.”

Cas compiled by pulling out his first finger entirely and pressing back in with two. Dean arched again, pulling his left leg (the one not pinned down by Cas humping it) up to his chest and held it there. Cas thrust his fingers in and out, then twisted slightly and felt around for his prostate. He found it quickly rubbed just on either side of it. The results were immediate as Dean lost his breath.

“You find that little treasure before?” Cas asked casually, smirking.

“Yeah,” Dean said, eyes closed and head still tilted back, “but it’s better when you do it.”

Cas decided to hold off, even though it was really tempting to just finish Dean off like this and forego his own pleasure just to watch Dean come all over himself because of Cas’ hands. _There was always next time._ His smile grew at that thought. Because this wasn’t going to be it for them. It was just the beginning.

Cas had slipped in a third finger, Dean’ muscles relaxing more as he writhed and moaned. Cas fucked his hand in and out of Dean, avoiding the prostate and wondering how many more fingers Dean could take. He shivered. _Next time._

“Cas, I’m ready, goddammit, get your fucking cock in me right fucking now, I swear to God, if you don’t start pounding into my asshole right fucking now, I’ll kick you off this bed and fuck my damn self.”

Cas giggled and grinned down at Dean. God, he loved him so fucking much.

He pulled his fingers carefully out, Dean whimpering at the empty feeling. Cas ripped open and slid on the condom in short swift motions. He covered himself with more lube and repositioned himself, pushing Dean’s other leg to his chest and hooking Dean’s knees over his shoulders and leaning over him so he got a good view of Dean’s face when he entered him for the first time. So he could remember it always. 

The blunt head of Cas’ cock nudged Dean’s dilated hole, pressing firmly. He could feel Dean’s pulse there, and fought to not just slam into him. He pushed harder and with and inaudible pop, he breached Dean and had to stop. He was so hot and tight; Cas had all but forgotten what this was like, being inside someone. It was never something he particularly cared one way or another about it, until right now. It was almost overwhelming. He got his bearings just as Dean tried to thrust down on him. He huffed a laugh at Dean’s eagerness to get Cas inside him, so he rewarded him by thrusting and filling him in one smooth motion. 

The world stood still and they both tried very hard to not come. “So full,” Dean whispered, maybe to himself, “It’s so much better than the plugs- oh God I feel so fucking full.”

When Cas felt Dean relax under him, he rolled his hips, and pulled out about halfway before sliding back in. Dean was gripping the headboard behind him, looking completely wrecked. He was looking back at Cas with a small amused smile lingering under the look of absolute hunger. 

“Cas, I know you can do better than that,” Dean goaded him, “if I wanted to get tickled- oh! Oh fuck yes! Oh God-fuck-ungh ungh ungh-

Cas switched tactics and was snapping his hips and pounding into Dean suddenly, shutting him up. To further his point, Cas covered Dean’s mouth with the hand not supporting himself. Dean sucked two of his fingers into his mouth, causing a stutter in Cas’ rhythm. He moaned around Cas’ fingers and sucked _hard,_ making Cas pound harder. He paused and moved Dean’s legs to his waist and stuffed a pillow under Dean’s hips, elevating them slightly. Cas grabbed him by the hips and thrust into him roughly, digging into his hips with his thumbs. Dean was now able to thrust back, and the sound of slapping skin filled the room. Cas was shifting Dean around slightly every few thrusts until-

There. Dean cried out as Cas nailed his prostate. Cas wasn’t going to last much longer himself, so he reached for Dean’s neglected cock, and stroked it firmly with his still-lubed fingers, twisting his wrist with every thrust against Dean’s spot.

Dean was suddenly quiet. Cas glanced up in time to see the silent scream, and smiled to himself over a job well d- 

And then Dean’s orgasm ripped through him, his ass clamping down on Cas’ cock with a pulsing force, stronger than he thought possible. Cas didn’t even feel it build; he just came like a rocket inside Dean as their chests were painted in Dean’s come. He had to let go and fall forward, the waves of pleasure were so intense, ebbing and flowing with the force of Dean’s orgasm. 

After for what seemed like the longest orgasm known to man, Dean finally looked up at him, panting and wordless. He pulled Cas down into the mess, and kissed him hard. Cas clutched him back- completely overwhelmed at all the feelings he was having at once. He closed his eyes and let Dean take the reins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's that.
> 
> The more I tried to edit, the more I tried to destroy the sexytimes. so i just stopped, so pardon my more-than-usual bad editing.


	15. I'm No Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But.
> 
> Taking away the only thing he had to quiet the thoughts left him with a new problem. His sponsor had him working steps, and that helped, immensely, but the dark place in him, the place he hid from everyone, was still there, alive and well. There was a saying, “sober up a horse thief, and all you have is a sober horse thief.” Cas felt confident that he no longer stole horses (ha ha), and kept his nose clean by choice, but there were those moments when the voices would get so loud…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING:
> 
> *graphic description of heroin use, like if you're a recovering addict, you might get triggered for sure  
> *graphic description of self-harm   
> *kind of a bunch of sadness
> 
> HAPPY THOUGHT:  
> I read on Entertainment Weekly that Castiel will have his own episode in season 12. With backstory. Stuff we don't know about. I don't know about you, but I'm so excited!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Cas sat in a pool of moonlight on the steps by Dean’s front door. He was shivering a little and smoking, wrapped in a blanket he grabbed from the couch. His breath combined with smoke billowed impressively around him. It was maybe some time past 2 in the morning when he remembered that it was the anniversary of the day he got clean. 

The last day of using had been a really bad one. Cas had been doing his usual routine: wake up, feel like shit, use any dope he might have left- including adding water to the cotton he cooked with the night before and shooting that, getting half-way cleaned up, and heading downtown to see what he could hustle for another hit. He was breathing and had blood pumping through his veins, but he was dead inside. Beyond human, reduced to animalistic survival skills, every day wondering why God didn’t just _let him die already._ It was no way to live, but he was a prisoner of his own mind; unable to wrench free from the physical need or the intense fear of withdrawal. 

He had turned a few tricks- easy hand jobs, no big deal, and he was able to score $40 worth of shitty heroin from Mexican Mike on the north side of the Woodland Street bridge. He walked back across the bridge, the Cumberland river swirling wildly below, swollen with the November runoff, and absently wondering if he should bother going home (the rat-infested flop house on Fourth) or just go to the bus station bathroom. If he went home, and took the risk that it was shitty dope, he would have to walk all the way back to score again. If he used the bathroom, and the shit was woo, he could be on the Riverfront waiting to be picked up by a regular in only ten minutes. This was his world- his whole life. The drugs that he once thought gave him the freedom he was searching for all his life; freedom from responsibility, freedom from thinking or feeling, freedom from reality- had turned on him and devoured him whole. The belly of the beast was tight quarters- just a few blocks of the city. A few blocks of concrete and asphalt, broken buildings, the homeless Tent City, and the faces of others, drifting in and out of his peripheral- none that could truly derail him from the endless hamster wheel that was life in those last few months.

Mexican Mike had come through. Cas sometimes wondered if the dope would have been bad, would he even be clean? If he had chose to walk home instead of go to the bus station? If he decided not to take that big a shot at that exact moment in that exact place?

Cas knew there was something out there Greater than him looking out for him. And in that case, it was delivered by way of a Metro Police Officer named Jodi Mills. 

He had been sitting on the pipes behind the toilet, feet resting on the seat, when he was clutched by the sometimes inescapable claws of reality; he actually saw himself, almost as if from above. He had paused, rig in hand, and the irony of being in a bathroom struck him as funny for a split second before it turned black and charred, filling his lungs with desperate pain and anguish. 

As with many junkies before him, backed in a corner, it was a reflex to pray. It was nothing profound or fancy, it was simple and as informal as it comes. _God help me._

But then the disease crept up over his shoulder and whispered in his ear, that at this point, he wasn’t even worth saving, and just one more was neither here nor there. So he obeyed, as he always did, and put needle to flesh, chasing a feeling that no longer existed for him. It had quit working for him long ago.

There was a block of time missing, and Cas woke with bleary eyes looking into the flashlight of Officer Mills. The dope was good, and he had nodded. Someone found him on the floor, surrounded by his precious drugs, and called over the only cop in the bus station that day. That was the last time he had ever used.

Officer Mills had seen Cas around for a long time, and they had had a few interactions in that time, and she always offered help for his drug problem. He would smile and swear he was high on life. There was no denying it anymore and there was no escape from the massive hole he dug for himself and couldn’t get out of. He’d been digging his own grave, throwing shovels of dirt up and out, never thinking about what would happen if the sides got taller than his head. He needed someone to pull him out. But he had to reach up.

And as chance would have it, Jodi had her hand out to reach back that day. 

Sure, he ended up seriously dopesick in jail and trying not to shit himself in front of the judge, but he was given a choice- get help or get locked up. Honestly, he wasn’t even thinking a little about getting clean, he was just trying to stay out of prison. But when the drugs left his system, things started to get better. And the things he heard in meetings started making sense. And life veered in a new direction. He had hope for the first time in his life.

But.

Taking away the only thing he had to quiet the thoughts left him with a new problem. His sponsor had him working steps, and that helped, immensely, but the dark place in him, the place he hid from everyone, was still there, alive and well. There was a saying, “sober up a horse thief, and all you have is a sober horse thief.” Cas felt confident that he no longer stole horses (ha ha), and kept his nose clean by choice, but there were those moments when the voices would get so loud…

On a good day, he only heard six in his head. There was the recovering addict voice (life is awesome!), the voice of his addiction (hey! Let’s get high!), the voice of his critic (oh my god, you can’t even do that right, you piece of shit), the voice of doubt (none of this will help, there’s no point because it won’t work), the voice of denial (You know, my addiction isn’t really that bad, I know people who are way worse), and the voice of the Void. The Void’s solution to everything was to die. He first heard the Void on 9/11.

All of the voices had one thing in common. They spoke to him in his head _in his own voice._ It was usually referred to as “thinking.”

And when it got overwhelming, sometimes Cas would do something stupid. Something insignificant, really, something no one knew about. He cooked in a kitchen by himself mostly, so no one noticed the extra burns or cuts on his hands, wrists, or fingers. It was one of those things he figured one day he’d have to deal with, but at the time, it was the only way he could instantly shut up all the voices at once. It was a reset button. He could stop if he wanted to, he was sure of it.

Cas took a drag on one of Dean’s cigarettes and looked intently at the moon. He knew he was going to do it long before he did, but still told himself he was in control and could stop himself. If he wanted to. 

But they were loud and echoing, spilling and arguing with one another, and for the first time in a long time, the grating voice of his mother made an appearance. She told him he didn’t deserve to be loved by Dean- if that boy knew half the stuff Cas had done, he would have run from the bedroom screaming. He would have looked down his nose at Cas and told him what a useless, perverted, piece of shit he was. Ruined. Disgusting. Broken. 

Cas barely noticed when he flicked his lighter on and let the flame heat the metal for a moment. He snapped it shut, then clicked it open again. The burn against his wrist was suddenly the only thing he could feel, and all else was washed away. 

He looked at the mark he left there. Not too noticeable if you weren’t looking for it. It was shiny where he had made contact, sure to peel at some later point. 

The door cracked open, making him jump.

“Cas?” Dean’s sleepy voice floated to him, “What are you doing out here? You can smoke in my room.”

“I have a year clean today,” Cas rumbled, putting out his cigarette and standing, pulling the afghan he stole off the couch around him tighter. 

“That’s awesome, now come back to bed.”

Cas grinned at rumpled, sleepy Dean and allowed himself to be led back to the bedroom. He stood still while Dean stripped his pants and shirt back off and was guided back under the covers. He smiled into Dean’s hair and inhaled them smell of sex, shampoo, and dried sweat. If he could bottle it, he would bathe in it every day. Dean curled up a little tighter, and Cas spooned closer in response. The burn on his wrist had settled into a dull ache, but reminded him things were not alright. But he would be happy with where he was for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry. But up until now, I had been really vague about Cas' past and he's about to share his story in a very full NA meeting, so I had to set the stage. But don't worry, our collective love for him will keep him safe :)


	16. Keep Coming Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas celebrates one year clean from drugs and alcohol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING:
> 
> *Mentions of self-harm  
> *Mostly just recovery-speak  
> *Gabriel is an adorable big brother

Dean sat awkwardly in the front row of a rather large and crowded NA meeting. Although he knew at some point, his dad was going to AA meetings, but he’d never thought about what it would be like on the inside. He thought, at one point in his life, before he started school, that he was headed in that direction. He was drinking too much and missing work. Sammy had called him out on his surliness and Executive Ordered him to cut that shit out. So he was really careful after that. Sammy knew him better than he knew himself, he guessed.

Dean felt like everyone in the room was looking at him like an outsider, but when he looked around, it was obvious that everyone was just talking amongst themselves until the meeting started. Dean was sitting with Gabriel and Kali, in a spot where he could reach his foot out and kick the poduim if he wanted to. 

The meeting chair walked to the front and introduced himself and silence fell after the room responded with the usual “hi” followed by his name.

There were readings and introductions, then the chair asked Gabe to the front of the room to introduce Cas.

“My name is Gabriel, and I’m an I’m and addict.”

 

“Hi Gabe!” yelled the room happily. Dean guessed he had to be pretty popular around there. 

“Yeah, yeah, shaddup,” he smirked back, “no autographs after the meeting. Trying to keep a low profile.”

The room tittered and giggled. Dean supposed it was because it was an ‘anonymous’ meeting. He had heard Cas quote Gabe- something about trying to be famous in an anonymous fellowship. It is all about the ego- and ego will get you dead.

“I want to let you guys get on to the important part of this night...the cake,” he paused while everyone chuckled at his bad joke, “but first I want to introduce a guy I’ve had the immense pleasure of working with this year, and am proud to hand him his one year coin. I see a lot of myself in him; same as I do when I go to meetings and look upon y'all's ugly mugs. I mean that in the nicest way possible. 

“Cas was a pretty hopeless case when he got here, and so was I. There was a spark inside me somewhere, I just had to look for the right people who would fan the flame of desire and not crush it out. They say to stick with the winners in here, and just so you know, you all can be winners, if you choose to do the work. It’s not easy, especially when it comes to people like us. We seem to over-complicate everything, and mind-fuck the smallest bits of conversation until it festers and we have to do something about it. The softer, easier way is to slide back into using, and continue on the road to destruction, or find a better way- often the harder way.

Now, here is a guy who always chooses the hardest way possible to do anything, I give you Castiel N.”

Cas walked to the podium and gave Gabe a hug while everyone clapped and hooted for Cas. Dean found himself clapping and whistling for him too. Gabe walked back and sat down, eyeing Dean with a knowing look. 

Dean wondered if Gabe had psychic powers and knew they had sex the night before. His face flushed and he looked away quickly. Dean cringed. _If he didn’t know before, he certainly did now!_

Cas cleared his throat and closed his eyes while the room settled. He looked a bit like he was praying. He took a deep breath, opened his eyes, scanning the room, stopping at Dean and smiling.

“I’m Castiel, and I’m an addict,” he said.

“Hi, Cas!” replied the room.

“I want to start by saying that if it wasn’t for this fellowship and recovery program, I would probably be dead in an alley somewhere. So thank you.”

Cas went on to tell his story- a good portion of which Dean had already heard. There were pieces that were new, stuff about growing up in an addict household- which Dean could relate to. He admired how easily Cas could just share his life story like it was no big deal.

Dean could see that Cas was becoming nervous. He was stuttering his words and blushing. The pauses between thoughts grew and he glanced over at Gabe for help. Gabriel simply nodded, and Cas took a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly again.

“There were a lot of things I had to do when I was using to survive,” he said, his eyes still closed, “things that I feel a deep shame about. I’ve heard in here that guilt is feeling bad about something you did, and shame is feeling bad about something you _are._ And sometimes I get confused between the things I did and who I am as a person. Those actions don’t define who I am, but I still struggle with that. 

“The literature says, ‘getting, using, and finding ways to get more.’ That was the daily schedule of my life and a cage I had built around myself. I had no one to blame but me- except when I was busy blaming everyone else.”

There were some laughs at that- Dean could tell they were out of empathy.

“I used my body as a means to get more. It meant nothing to me then; I was dead inside- and honestly, I never thought I’d make it past 20. When I turned 21 and realized I had made no plans for a future at all, I had to quit lying to myself about what I was doing. I was slowly trying to commit suicide, one bag of dope at a time.

“I was taught that I’m not responsible for my disease, but I am responsible for my recovery. I can’t use my addiction as an excuse to use, not when I am already clean. I’m only powerless when I have the drugs in my system, but when I’m clean, I have the choice back. The choice to stay clean or use. And in my case, live or die.” 

There was a long pause while Cas looked down, brows drawn together.

“I just found out yesterday that my mom died.” There were quiet noises around the room of sympathy.

“My dad died when I was little, and my sister is in LA, so it falls on me to make arrangements for her funeral. At first I was angry- and maybe I still am- but then I thought what would it be like to try and do this high? I wouldn’t do it. And I would feel bad about it for the rest of my life. I still resent the woman who gave me life, but I have to remember she was fucked up too- she lost her husband when I lost my dad. She still deserves to be treated with dignity. And now I can start to make amends by doing this for her. I’m not sure who the amends are to- me or her, but I know it’s something I should do because it’s the right thing to do. 

“I’m making it sound like it was all easy, like I’m able to handle this gracefully and like a grown-up. But if it wasn’t for the people I surrounded myself with, I don’t know if I would have made it here tonight. I have real friends, people who I really care about and who really care about me. It makes me feel like I matter. I guess I’m getting to pick my family now.”

 

Cas furtively glanced at Dean and blushed slightly.

“That being said, I don’t know how to be in a family. It’s new. I’ve only ever been isolated or tried to take care of everyone around at the expense of my own needs. I have no idea how to be a brother, son, boyfriend, or whatever. I’m going to have to learn as I go, I guess. 

“But anyway… I seem to be running out of things to say, so maybe that’s my Higher Power’s way of getting me to shut up. I’ve been told I talk too much anyway.” He looked pointedly at Gabe, causing a few laughs.

“Thank you for letting me share.” Everyone stood and clapped, including Dean, who clapped harder than anyone. He was so proud of Cas. 

Cas walked around the podium and sat next to Dean, looking sheepish. Dean grabbed him and squeezed him tightly, mumbling to him what a good job he did. Cas almost looked surprised. Like Dean would reject him now. He would have to ask Cas about that later.

The meeting was wrapped up- announcements, handing out key tags for clean time, and circling up and saying the prayer that Cas had tattooed on his ribs(!). 

Gabe was right about the cake- it was swarmed as soon as they stepped away from the circle. Dean thought it was a pretty good experience. He stood by himself watching Cas from a distance talk to a few people who came up to congratulate him. He kept making furtive glances under his eyelashes at Dean, smiling. Dean smiled broadly and waited patiently. He felt a hand on his elbow.

“Hey handsome,” came a familiar voice.

Dean spun, “Meg! What are you doing here?”

Meg laughed and tipped her head back to look him over. 

“Here ‘cause I’m supposed to be, I reckon,” she said in her usual subtle sarcastic lilt.

Dean rolled his eyes and hugged her, being careful of the heavy cast on her arm.

“How was the hospital?”

Meg motioned back at a small group of women watching her. “Technically I’m still in the hospital; we just happened to be coming out to an off-site meeting tonight. I’m so glad I got to see our boy celebrate.”

“Yeah, me too,” said Dean, unable to stop the look that came over his face when he looked back at Cas.

“Dean,” Meg said in a teasing voice, “did you two…” she motioned between them with a couple of fingers.

Dean reddened and sputtered.

Meg laughed a genuine laugh and clutched his arm. “I haven’t been sober long enough to even think about that,” she quipped, “how awesome. I always thought you seemed like the right kind for our boy.”

“And you’re usually right about everything,” said Cas as he came up behind Dean to join them.

Cas grabbed Meg and lifted her off the floor in a hug. They chatted a bit and Dean went to grab whatever coffee might be left. He was trying to decide if the powdered creamer was worth the risk when Gabe approached him.

“Hey, it’s Dean, right?” Dean nodded at him, sipping the now greyish coffee. “Nice to finally put a face to the name.” 

They shook hands and Dean was suddenly aware that Cas told Gabe everything all the time- and that meant _everything._

“Whoa there, buddy,” Gabe said quickly before Dean could run away, “don’t worry, I don’t know the graphic details of Cas’ sordid little love life. That’s not what sponsorship is about. In fact, he hasn’t said much about you at all.”

Dean looked at him, surprised. “So, is it that obvious?”

Gabe snorted and smirked. 

“It’s the way you look at him. The way he keeps looking at you, to see if you’re still there.”

Dean glanced at Cas talking to Meg, and sure enough, he was looking at Dean too, a small smile on his lips. Dean held back the goofy smile that threatened to take over his face. 

Gabe poked his arm. “I know he tried his damndest to stay out of a relationship for a year, but I ain’t mad at him. You seem to really care about him.”

“We haven’t exactly discussed the whole ‘relationship’ thing yet,” Dean admitted.

Gabe’s eyebrow slowly rose. “Ah, I see. As a sponsor, it’s none of my business what he does with who. But as someone who feels like his older brother, here is where I make a death threat.”

Dean laughed nervously and chewed the inside of his lip. “Don’t worry,man. I’m all in. I just figure I don’t need to pile any more stress onto his plate right now. We just need to get him through the funeral, and we’ll work it out.”

Gabe nodded, satisfied. “Glad to hear it.” He pulled out his phone. “Let me get your number so can get ahold of you about his mom’s arrangements. I want to help any way I can.”

They exchanged numbers as Cas walked over. “You guys talking about me?” he asked casually.

“Just like an addict,” Gabe said, winking at Dean, “thinks the whole world has nothing better to do than think about him.”

Cas smirked. “Well, what else would they be thinking about?”

“Well, _me_ obviously,” Gabe replied smugly, “because I’m that damn important.”

Cas laughed at Dean’s confusion. He stepped closer and wrapped an arm around his waist. Dean leaned into the touch without giving it a second thought.

********

They ended up at the cafe for a late snack, with a table full of people from the meeting, along with Charlie, Kevin, and Jodi- which the latter was a surprise to Dean. Cas kept calling her his angel with a gun and badge, or Officer Saved-My-Ass. He figured there was a story behind that. But he was far from surprised to learn Jodi had helped him get a job at the cafe. Nashville was a small town like that.

They were well into their third latte when Dean noticed a mark on Cas’ arm where his sleeve rode up. It hadn’t been there before. Cas was waving his hands around, telling a story, and Dean carefully watched his arms, trying to get a better look. There was a second on the underside of the other wrist, and it looked older. 

_Burns._

Dean’s mood shifted. Something was off. Cas hadn’t been cooking in the last few days, so there was no reason for him to have new burns on his arms. 

But that meant- 

Dean shook his head, trying not to make his panic evident on his face. If Cas was hurting himself, what did that mean? He tried to push the thoughts out of his mind, for the sake of celebrating with the group of rambunctious friends, but it crept back in, along with a sinking sensation that he was missing something important.

When Cas had admitted to having to _use his body_ to support his addiction. Dean hadn’t known about it, but really wasn’t put off by it. They were safe when they had sex, so he shouldn’t worry, right? But what if the burns weren’t the only thing Cas was hiding from him? What if there was more? 

Cas looked over at Dean, mid-story, and smiled at him. Dean smiled weakly back. Cas seemed to take it as a cue, so after he finished monopolizing the table’s attention- it was Gabe’s turn to tell an even wilder story which had everyone in hysterics.

“What’s wrong, Dean? Are you okay?” Cas asked, worried eyes roving Dean’s face.

“I guess I’m just tired,” he lied, “been a long day.”

Cas nodded. “I would like to wrap it up. This weekend has been fucking exhausting. I just want to go curl up in your bed, can we do that?”

Dean’s smile was genuine. “Yeah, Cas, I want to do that too.”

But the questions that were blooming in the back of his mind were threatening to rot and fester. He decided to wait until after the funeral to confront Cas, and maybe discuss the whole ‘relationship’ thing.

*********

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If no one else has told you today- I love you! You are wonderful and deserve hugs and love from anonymous fic writers <3<3<3 ;)


	17. Bathroom Carpets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Cas?” Dean yelled, shaking him slightly, “Can you even hear me?” 
> 
> The panic in Dean’s voice was evident. Cas blinked several times and focused on Dean’s green eyes. They were filled with unshed tears and unmistakeable fear.
> 
> “I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment, Dean,” he said quietly, steeling himself for the rejection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING:
> 
> *The author thought it necessary to have another chapter of angst I mean like what the fuck  
> *self harm  
> *fancy bathrooms with carpet

Cas paced the length of the unnecessarily fancy bathroom in the lawyer’s office. He wanted to leave and go smoke, but he was almost positive that if he went outside now, he’d probably fuck off and disappear. Sounded a lot better than dealing with any of the shit going on in the other room.

Naomi’s lawyer had contacted him after getting his information from Anna. He would have appreciated a call from her to let him know he’d have to be present for the execution of her will, but she was probably still pissed from their last conversation. The will was pretty cut and dry- Chuck had no other family to fight over the rights to the songs he’d written, so when Naomi passed, they went to Anna and Cas. The royalty checks would be split between the two of them bi-monthly. He had known that Naomi had kept up the house with that money, as well as supported her lifestyle, but he didn’t know how much money actually came in. It was a surprising amount.

Several things happened when he found out the number. First he was in shock. He grabbed Dean’s hand and sat with his jaw slack while the lawyer went over the details about the house. Cas’ lizard brain kicked in and it was downhill from there. 

_Naomi had that much money coming in every month, and wouldn’t help me pay for school? And Anna can’t afford to fly in. Well, I guess she could fly in if she wanted to now but I guess she doesn’t want to what the fucking hell I have money now this doesn’t even make any sense I have money now what the fuck mom I had to sell my ass on the streets and I could have had plenty of money and wouldn’t have to do that how dare she that money was my dad’s and she had no right to keep it for herself that selfish bitch okay I don’t mean that I mean I’m glad she’s dead but wait no that’s not good I’m a way-fucked-up person to be glad she’s gone who the fuck would be okay with their own mom dying Dean’s mom is dead and he deserves to have a mom and I don’t even deserve him I don’t deserve anything good in my life I will screw it up I should just get out now before I fuck this all up too-_

Cas forced a smile to Dean and excused himself to the bathroom. His mind was churning. The Void was calling him. It’s tempting song- the great nothing was a sweet melody and he wanted nothing more than to escape all of this. 

He had money. You know how much good heroin costs? Like actual good heroin? Cas allowed himself to think just for a moment on what it would be like to be able to afford all the dope he had once wanted when he was using. It was a lot. 

Cas felt a sharp sting on his left wrist. He yelped and looked down. He had just lit his lighter and pressed it to his flesh without even really meaning to.

“Cas you okay in-” Dean swung open the door, catching Cas with lighter in hand.

“Cas, what the fuck are you doing?” The anger bled through into Dean’s voice. He didn’t look surprised. Cas must not have been as secretive as he thought.

Dean was across the carpeted floor in a split second. He grabbed Cas’ wrist and turned it to look at the red and swollen skin. Cas didn’t resist, and sagged against the wall. It was probably for the best. He obviously couldn’t be trusted not to fuck everything up. Dean would finally know how fucking broken he was and could go ahead and move on. Cas would be okay without him- he had been prepared to be alone for his whole life anyway- he wasn’t the type who would ever have a happy life-

“Cas?” Dean yelled, shaking him slightly, “Can you even hear me?” 

The panic in Dean’s voice was evident. Cas blinked several times and focused on Dean’s green eyes. They were filled with unshed tears and unmistakeable fear.

“I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment, Dean,” he said quietly, steeling himself for the rejection.

“Cas, what are you talking about?” Dean asked, squeezing Cas’ shoulders- which Cas was happy for- it was keeping him connected to reality for the moment. 

“Aren’t you mad at me?” Cas asked, brows furrowed.

Dean slowly released Cas shoulders and sat down in a richly upholstered chair. Cas always thought it was weird that rich people kept furniture in their bathrooms. Like he hadn’t seen a chair this nice in a while, and this one was in close proximity to actual shit. The juxtaposition of something beautiful and something disgusting was not lost on him as he looked away from Dean. 

“Cas,” Dean started, “I- I’m worried about you.” He stared down at his shoes. Cas remained leaning against the wall next to him, studying the damage to his wrist.

“I know, Dean, I’m sorry. I’m just way more fucked up than you knew. I’m just too much to deal with and I understand. I’d leave me too, but I’m kind of stuck with myself.” He laughed humorlessly.

It was Dean’s turn to be confused. “What? No, Cas- I’m not leaving you, I’m worried. I don’t want you to-” He looked down again, swallowing hard, a tear falling despite his efforts to keep them in. 

“-I don’t want you to kill yourself. I’m not sure I could survive that.”

Realization dawned on Cas. “No Dean, no- I’m not, I don’t want to do that.” Cas dropped to his knees in front of Dean, grabbing his hands and trying catch his eyes. “I just um, I do a reset.”

Dean shot him skeptical look. “Reset?”

“Yeah, like with a computer? I’m just, um…” It sounded so much stupider out loud. “Like, my brain gets all sped up and I need it to quiet down, I need to be thrown off track, and when I, you know, do that, It stops my thoughts. I’m not trying to kill myself.” Cas smiled, hoping that answered Dean’s concern.

Dean sat back in his chair, incredulous. “You _burn_ yourself and then you act like it’s _okay?_ That’s pretty fucking far from okay, man.”

Cas recoiled, a wash of shame claiming him, and pulling him back. He knew it was a problem, but he was just hurting himself, right? 

Dean looked pretty hurt. He was rubbing his palms over his thighs over and over. The panic had lessened, but he looked lost. 

“Cas, does anyone else know you do this?”

Cas shook his head, face suddenly flushing. “No,” he whispered.

Dean slid to his knees to and shifted so he close enough to pull Cas in for a hug. Cas melted into it, unsure. Was this a hug goodbye? He wrapped his arms tight around Dean, trying to stay in the moment. 

“Cas, this is the kind of thing you need to go to a therapist for. I want to help you, but I don’t know how, tell me how I can help you.” Dean’s voice cracked on the last words.

Cas shrugged and clung tighter. Dean wasn’t pushing him away but he wasn’t sure how to answer. “I guess I need to get help or something. I- I’ll tell Gabe, he might know a place.”

A small bit of tension left Dean’s body, and he put his face into Cas’ neck and kissed it softly. It caused shivers to run up and down Cas’ spine.

“I just- I can’t lose you. I...need you, Cas.”

“Dean,” Cas pulled back slightly and brought their lips together for a light touch, “I need you too.”

He could tell Dean wanted to say something else, but it probably was his imagination. It was okay. Dean wasn’t going to leave him. Yet. 

They left the bathroom and finished up business with the lawyer, starting the process of changing the deed over to his name. Soon they were leaving to go to the funeral home. There was still so much left to do. Cas had put an obituary in the paper on Gabe’s suggestion, and booked a funeral home near Music Row. There was a burial plot already- right next to Chuck’s in Mt. Olivet Cemetery. The service was being taken care of by the morticians, flowers and everything, and Naomi’s life insurance more than paid for it. Basically, the lawyer made it simple enough that all Cas had to do was show up. But he wasn’t sure he was ready to view his mom’s lifeless body. That seemed to be too much.

On the way over in the Impala, Cas called Gabe.

“Hey, Cas, how you holding up?”

Cas sighed a breath out he didn’t know he was holding. He reached for Dean’s hand and clung to it. 

“I’m okay, I guess. Look, there’s some stuff I should tell you, but let’s wait until this stuff is over.”

Gabe hummed in agreement. 

“Gabe, do I have to see my mom’s body? Like, can I just not go?”

“Cas, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. If you want to just sit back in the lobby and greet people who are going to the viewing, you can do that. If you don’t want to talk to anyone, you can do that too. If you want to skip the whole fucking thing you can do that too. It’s going to happen whether you go or not. But if you want to be there, do it in whatever capacity _you_ want to. Tomorrow is the burial and you could just come for that. Whatever you need, I’m here, okay? Dean is too. Just keep us updated on your state of mind, and you’ll be okay.”

Cas wondered how Gabe did that whole psychic sponsor thing. 

“Thanks, Gabe. I think I will skip the viewing. I really would rather go to a meeting or hang out with Dean. I’m pretty tired.”

“Do what you need to do to care for yourself, Cas. And call me tomorrow.”

“Okay, I love you, man,” Cas said, smiling. 

“I love you too.”

They hung up and Cas shot a look at Dean. He noticed they had changed direction and were heading to the apartment.

It was weird to think it had only been a few days since he and Dean had gotten together. It seemed like they should have been like that all along. 

“I have a house,” Cas said suddenly.

Dean smiled over at him. “Yeah, I guess you do. You gonna keep it, or sell it?”

“Keep it,” Cas said firmly, “I’m keeping it, and I’m gutting that motherfucker and getting all the bad juju out and I’m going to make it awesome.”

 

Dean squeezed his hand in response and they rode the rest of the way to the apartment in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry- there can only be some ridiculous smut from here on out.


	18. Destiel Smutfest 2002

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What goes _down_ must come smut.
> 
> see what I did there? You're welcome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so sorry this 10 pages of smut took so long. I accidentally gave a friend irl the link to this and now...Elizabeth, if you're reading this, yes. I am a pervert. Enjoy!
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS:
> 
> *the smuttiest smut to ever smut. And this is the edited version.  
> *a lil' but o' the face fuckin'.  
> *Mr. Burns/Smithers daddy kink mentions

“Hey, Bobby,” Dean said, lighting up a smoke and shifting the phone to the other ear.

“Dean. So how’s that friend of yours holding up?” Bobby sounded somewhat sympathetic. Dean smiled, knowing it had to be Jodi’s influence. He was sure the two of them had something going, either that or Bobby was getting soft in his old age.

“He’s hanging in there, Bobby. I was just going to ask if I could come in on Friday and miss tomorrow afternoon. I’m still finishing up my final project for school, and I wanted to go to the funeral with Cas...in case he, uh, needs me.” Dean shuffled his feet, hoping Bobby wouldn’t probe further into it.

“Yeah Sam already called.”

Dean groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That kid, I swear to God-”

“That kid has got your back, dumbass,” said Bobby gruffly, “and it’s fine to miss another day. Don’t worry about Friday either- you’ve never taken an actual vacation day, and I’d say you were due for one. Full pay.”

“Jesus, Bobby, that’s great,” Dean breathed out, “I really appreciate it.”

“Well, I want you to be there for that boyfriend of yours,” Bobby said, no hint of sarcasm in his voice.

“What the fuck, Bobby,” Dean said, face flushing hot, “I didn’t- I mean…”

“Oh, hell, son,” Bobby snorted, “don’t get your panties twisted, I ain’t messed up with it. Can’t I be happy if you’re happy?” He sounded indignant.

Dean sighed in relief. “Actually we haven’t really talked about it yet...the, um, logistics of it…”

Bobby grunted. “Whatever, son, get your business sorted out. You don’t want an opportunity like this to pass you by.”

“Ah- ha!” Dean exclaimed, “I knew it!”

He could almost hear Bobby frown and blush over the phone.

“I don’t-”

Dean grinned. “So you finally asked out Jodi Mills, didn’t you?”

Bobby snuffled and coughed. “Yeah, I guess I did, so what’s it to you?”

Dean laughed and shook his head. “Just happy for you is all.”

“Well thanks. Now piss off, I have actual things to be doing right now other than gossiping over the fence with you, Dean Winchester.” Bobby hung up on Dean’s uncontrolled snickering.

Dean put his phone up and put out his cigarette, walking back into the apartment. Sam and Cas were looking through Cas’ sketchbook. They looked up at him in surprise, and Cas slammed the book shut, biting on a smile.

Dean rolled his eyes. “I don’t even want to know.” He decided against giving Sammy shit for being in his business again and calling Bobby. The kid really did have his back. He would really miss him when he went off to school the next year.

Dean pushed that thought out of his mind and cleared his throat. “So what do you guys want to do for dinner? Sam? Assbutt?”

Cas turned a brilliant shade of crimson and buried his face in his hands while Dean and Sam laughed.

“I’m going to kill Anna for telling you,” he moaned, “it’s so stupid. I was like 8 and trying to cuss her out and the worst I could think of was assbutt. I’ll never live it down.”

When they finally pulled themselves together, Dean asked about dinner again.

“Actually,” said Sam, shooting a look to Cas, who was inspecting his nails, “Jess is coming to pick me up and we’re having dinner with her parents and watching a movie. They insist we are studying too much and need a break.” Sam rolled his eyes, as if needing a break was ridiculous.

“They’re right, nerd, you should make out with your girlfriend on her couch. He parents are practically begging you to,” Dean smirked.

“Ew, Dean, don’t be gross,” Sam said wrinkling his nose, “he parents are going to a play tonight after we eat. They won’t even be there.”

“My point exactly,” Dean said, his grin growing.

Sam sighed, long suffering, looking at Cas again, about to comment, then changing his mind and looking pointedly back at Dean, raising his eyebrows in silent brother-speak.

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

The two smiled at each other. Sam glanced at his watch and grabbed his backpack. “I’ll see you losers later,” he tossed over his shoulder, heading out the door. There was a car honk, and Sam dodged the couch pillow Dean hurled at him laughing. Dean leaned out the front door waving to Jess’ dad as they were pulling away. He closed the door and turned to look at Cas. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw how close Cas was standing behind him.

“Jesus fuck, Cas!” he yelped. Cas smirked and grabbed Dean’s shirt and yanked him forward into a deep kiss. Dean’s knees felt like jelly as he braced himself back against the door. Cas pushed against him and wedged a knee between his legs. Dean groaned as Cas ground their hips together, and shoved his hands up the back of Cas’ black shirt. He scraped his nails up either side of his spine, causing Cas to grind forward again against Dean’s growing erection. Dean could feel Cas’ hard length on his thigh, and suddenly, it wasn’t enough having Cas fuck his mouth with his tongue- Dean needed more. He flipped the two of them a locked the door. He pushed Cas back with one hand and unbuckled his pants with the other, brushing his fingers along Cas’ cock as he did, causing him to shudder and moan.

Dean fell to his knees and yanked Cas’ pants and boxer-briefs down as he went. His cock sprang out, the tip wet already. Dean licked his lips, pushing all thoughts out of his mind as he ran his tongue along the underside. Cas almost doubled over, grabbing Dean’s shoulders in support. Dean held Cas’ hips against the door, his own erection straining in his pants. He took the flat of his tongue and pressed it on Cas’slit, feeling precome spurt out against the pressure. The taste was a bit bitter and salty, and he lapped it up, wanting more. Dean had never actually done what he was about to do, but he had the urge to just choke himself on Cas’ cock, to thrust this part of him into his mouth and suck hard, to pull pleasure from Cas and make him feel good. He wanted to make Cas feel what he felt the other night when Cas fucked him so hard he nearly passed out when he came. 

Dean pushed the head of Cas’ dick into his mouth and took him in as far as possible, gagging immediately. Cas pulled him back, biting his lip against a smile.

“While I enjoy your enthusiasm, Dean, please don’t hurt yourself before I get a chance to come down your throat,” he growled.

Dean had a full-body shudder as he slurped back onto Cas’ cock. He was slower this time, stroking with his hand over the part he couldn’t get in his mouth. His saliva was dripping off his chin, lubricating and running down to Cas’ balls. Dean pulled at Cas’ balls with his other hand, causing moans and swearing to come from above him. He slid a finger back to Cas’ perineum and pressed his prostate from the outside. Cas grabbed Dean’s hair and pulled, causing a jolt of pleasure to rocket to Dean’s cock. His pants were chafing where he was unintentionally humping the air. He dropped his hand from Cas’ dick and continued to suck him as he unzipped and released his own cock with a humm. Cas thrust his hips forward at the vibrations, managing to hold himself back from going too deep into Dean’s throat. Dean relaxed his esophageal muscles and took him in deeper. He began to stroke himself in time with his sucking, going faster, deeper, wanting to feel Cas in the back of his throat. He wanted Cas to fuck his face, use him, dominate him, push him down and- Dean suddenly came over his hand at that thought, bringing his messy hand up to grab Cas’ hip and slide both hands around to Cas ass and push into his own mouth, further and further, harder and harder, feeling Cas come apart gasping and calling out Dean’s name as he pumped a hot salty load down Dean’s throat. Dean swallowed instinctively, milking Cas through his orgasm, swallowing again and again until Cas whimpered from sensitivity. He pulled off his softening dick and loosened his grip on his ass. Cas slumped to the floor, pants still around his ankles. His face was shocked, flushed, and his pupils were overtaking his eyes almost completely.

“Damn, Dean,” he said with awe, “that was the most enthusiastic blow job I’ve ever received. You were committed to that shit.”

Dean chuckled then coughed at his sore throat. “No problem,” Dean croaked out, looking around for something to wipe himself up with. His jaw ached.

“I mean, what the fuck, Dean, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever had done to me, ever.” Cas was looking at Dean like he couldn’t believe he was real. Dean smiled nervously under the praise.

“Geez, Cas, you don’t have to say that, I know it was my first time, you don't’ have to play it up to make me feel better.” Dean pulled off his shirt and mopped himself up and handed Cas the shirt to wipe off the drying saliva. Cas just held it, stunned.

“I keep forgetting you’ve never done this before,” Cas breathed out, eyes still wide, “I just can’t believe you picked me, of all people-”

“Cas, of course I picked you. I’ve wanted you since...like, the first time I saw you, I guess. I just didn’t know what that was. It was new to feel like that...about a guy. But you’re not just some guy,” Dean said quickly, searching for words to aptly describe what he felt for Cas. “I mean...I’m not good at this feeling stuff, you know. I, I don’t know…” he looked down at his hands. “I really like you, and I uh, I never been in a relationship. But I want to. Do that. With you,” he stammered out.

Cas wasn’t saying anything, so Dean finally looked up, only to find tears slowly leaking from Cas’ eyes and a very distressed look on his face.

“Cas! What is it, what’s wrong?” Dean said, grabbing Cas’ hands and rubbing small circles on the backs of them with his thumbs.

Cas sobbed but a smile flashed through, replaced by a look of confusion. “But why, Dean? What did I do to deserve you? I’m nothing special, I don’t deserve someone like you. I’m just a used-up junkie with a fucked up head. Why me? You’re so perfect, you could have anyone you want, guys or girls, but me? I don’t get it.”

Dean pulled him closer, awkwardly over their knees, Cas with pants around his ankles still. “What are you even talking about, Cas? You’re awesome, and I’m sorry you can’t see you like I do. You’re perfect. You are just yourself. I know you have stuff, hell, I got issues too, but you’re working on them and I know you’ll get better and better. You make me want to be better too. I’ve...I’ve never felt this way about anyone. I want to be with you. I want you to stay with me. I want you to be my, um, boyfriend, or whatever. I want you to stay with me and Sam. That is, until your house is ready, I guess.”

Cas was staring intently at Dean’s thumbs on the backs of his hands. “Dean, I have no idea what I did to get lucky enough to find you. Yeah, I’d like that.”

Dean sucked in a breath. “Which part of it?”

“All of it,” Cas said decisively, “I want as much of you as I can get. I’ve never felt like this either. I don’t have any idea what I’m doing, and I’m obviously going to fuck up, but I’ll promise I’ll try if you do. I don’t know how I would ever be able to live my life without you now, you’ve gone and spoiled me now,” a smile crept across his face, “especially with that blowjob, oh my fucking God, Jesus Christ, that was so good. Better than anything.”

“Oh great,” Dean said, playfully rolling his eyes and standing to pull Cas up, “now you’ll have to go to Blowjobs Anonymous or I’ll always have your dick in my mouth. Nothing will ever get done. We’ll both lose our jobs and drop out of school, just so you can fuck my face all the time.”

“Holy shit, Dean, where the fuck did you learn to talk like that? Do you even know what you do to me?” Cas pulled his pants back up, having to tuck his now half-hard dick back into his pants. Dean laughed and fixed his clothing too. 

“Chinese?” He asked, pulling out his phone.

“Haven’t you eaten enough for one day?” Cas said, narrowly avoiding getting his ass swatted as he darted off to the couch to flop down.

Dean made the order and they watched a few _Simpsons_ episodes while they ate. They had a heated discussion over the nature of Mr. Burns and Smithers’ relationship, Cas insisting Smithers had a daddy kink, whatever that was. 

Full and content, Dean dragged a tired Cass off the couch and into the bathroom where he stripped them both and got them into a hot shower. They lazily kissed and washed each other, giggling and touching each other. When the water started to turn cold, They got out and dried off, wrapping themselves in towels and staggering to the bedroom, hands roaming and tongues licking into each other’s mouths deeper and deeper. Cas pushed Dean back onto the bed, pulling his towel off. 

“So what do you think about when you use that blue plug on yourself?” Cas smiled wickedly.

Dean blushed and bit his lip. “Actually I haven’t used any of that stuff yet,” he said shyly, “I only have fingered myself- until the other night, when we, um...but I knew I could handle you, because, well, I really wanted to.”

“Oh, I see,” Cas said, eyebrow arching, yanking open the drawer, “You led me to believe you had so much experience fucking yourself with these things, but really, they are just sitting here unused?” 

Dean nodded. “Well, I did suck on the dildo a little. Thought I’d see what that felt like.”

Cas closed his eyes and sighed raggedly. He braced himself on the drawer and opened blown-pupil eyes and glared down at Dean. 

“So you were in here, jerking off, finger-fucking yourself, with me in the other room? Oh, my God.” Cas stood, dropped his towel and pounced on Dean, flushed and erect cock bobbing as he slid up the length of Dean’s body to capture his mouth. “Roll over,” he growled.

Dean obeyed eagerly, flipping quickly, pushing his ass up into the air, spreading his knees apart, bowing his back slightly, presenting himself to Cas.

Cas swore loudly, reaching out to caress Dean’s ass cheeks and slap them lightly. Dean wiggled his hips a little, his cock already hard and leaking on the sheets below him. He looked back over his shoulder and caught Cas’ eyes as he slowly lowered himself out of Dean field of vision. Suddenly Dean felt something hot and wet press against his entrance. He yelped in surprise, then pushed back into it, groaning immediately. Cas chuckled and and swiped his tongue up the length of Dean’s crack, causing Dean to flop his face down into the pillow and drop his elbows so his pelvis was tilted even higher, offering better access to Cas. Cas swirled his tongue in small circles, pressing lightly, causing Dean’s hole to throb and flutter. He was unable to hold back the ragged moans and keening as he bit his pillow and pushed his hips back slightly, trying to find more pressure. He had never even considered doing this, and even may have thought it was weird or gross, but he had been missing out. It was as if every nerve ending in his body was on fire. Cas pointed his tongue and _pushed._ Dean almost yelped again, holding still as Cas opened him up with just his tongue, reducing him to a quivering mess, begging into his pillow. 

“Cas please, please fuck me, oh my God, that feels so good, oh my- fuck yes, ungh ungh, fuck me yes yes yes-”

Dean felt as Cas prodded gently with a finger next to his tongue and pushed easily in up to the second knuckle. Cas twisted, increasing pressure. 

“More, Cas, I can take more, please, _harder_ fuck, fill me up.”

Cas groaned and Dean felt another finger join his first, and Cas was soon pumping his fingers in at out at a rough pace, occasionally brushing Dean’s prostate, causing his dick to dribble more precome on the sheets and to writhe beneath him. Dean was pushing back, begging for more.

“Dean, I’m going to try the blue plug now, okay?”

“Fuck, I thought you’d never get around to it,” Dean complained, earning him a sharp slap to his rear, adding a little surge of pain to his pleasure. He moaned again.

Dean whined as Cas’ fingers disappeared, and he heard his drawer being rummaged around in. Soon he felt cool lube at his entrance. He absently wished again that he had a mirror so he could watch what Cas was doing to him. Maybe he could set up his video camera next time.

Cas fingers plunged in again a few times, pulling at the muscle there, loosening it as much as he could. Then the fingers were gone, and Dean could feel the blunt but pointed shape of the plug as it was pressed into Dean’s hole firmly, stretching him. There was a sting, a burn, but Dean _craved_ it, wanted more, so he pushed back, until he felt the rim of the plug give way to a smaller width, and it was seated in him fully. Cas let it rest there, letting Dean adjust to the sizeable intrusion. When he started pumping his hips back involuntarily, Dean felt more lube being poured over his crack, running down around the plug, down his perineum and finally dripping off his sack. Wondering what Cas was doing, Dean lifted his head and looked back, meeting Cas’ debauched face, mouth open, lips red from biting. Cas pushed Dean’s knees together, shifting the plug inside him, sending shots of electricity through his prostate where it now pressed. Cas pushed his cock between Dean’s thighs, slick with lube, and getting the hint, Dean squeezed his legs together tighter. Cas thrust forward, brushing along Dean’s perineum and nudging his balls, and Cas’ pelvis came in contact with the plug, sending more sparks through Dean’s body. He could barely support himself with his knees, but it felt so fucking good. Cas was grunting and moaning. Dean felt himself getting close to the edge, and he was about to plunge over it when he felt a hand snake around him and squeeze the base of his cock, stopping his orgasm before it could build too high. Dean grunted in protest, earning him another squeeze.

“Not like this, Dean, I just needed to relieve a little pressure- but i want to see you come.”

Cas pulled away and released Dean’s cock and carefully rolled him over. The rush of blood back to Dean’s head was lovely, and he smiled sweetly at Cas. Cas smiled back and stroked Dean’s thighs a few times before pushing them up to Dean’s chest. 

“I’m going to take it out in just a minute, but I wanted to ask if it was okay if I, um, used the other one?” Cas tapped a few times on the plug, causing sparks within Dean again. He wanted to see Cas fuck himself on the other plug so badly. 

Dean practically drooled on himself. He nodded vigorously, unable to form words. Cas smiled and pulled the gray vibrating one from the drawer and setting it on the bed. Dean watched as Cas slicked his fingers up with lube and laid on his side next to Dean, lifting his right leg up, bent at the knee so he could have access to finger himself and kiss Dean. He must have sensed that Dean wanted to watch, because after a long, hard, deep kiss, he pushed back slightly to give Dean a better view. Dean watched with fascination as Cas slowly opened himself up, adding fingers quickly, then lubing the plug and pushing it in, stopping every few centimeters to adjust around it. Dean watched in awe as Cas’ muscles tensed and relaxed around the plug. Dean reached across with his left hand and tentatively touched the stretched skin, causing Cas to gasp and shout Dean’s name out. Dean smirked and grabbed the base of Cas’ cock, returning the favor. 

When Cas finally got the plug finally in position, Dean reached over again and turned on the vibrating feature to the lowest setting. Cas arched his back, yelling out.

“Turn it off, turn it off!” He yelped, and Dean quickly complied.

Cas broke into giggles, “Oh my God, I almost went off like a rocket.” The two of them, stuffed full, laughed, then moved in to kiss for a bit. Dean had started to flag a little, but he was soon fully hard again, moaning and desperate. They had prolonged the process and he was about done waiting. Fortunately Cas had the same notion and positioned Dean again with his knees up so he could remove the plug and positioned himself over Dean. 

Dean breathed deeply as Cas worked the plug out of him. He gasped at the empty feeling. “You seem to be an expert at that,” he panted up at Cas.

Cas’ grin was wide and he leaned in to kiss Dean again. “Dean, I have never actually done anything like that, ever, so...yeah. There’s that.”

They both started giggling again, Dean looking up at Cas, loving him so much more for being able to be this open with him. Cas grabbed a condom and quickly rolled it on.

Cas bent Dean’s knees up to his chest again, and Dean felt the blunt head of Cas’ cock brush his overly-sensitive entrance. Slowly, Cas pushed in. Dean was overwhelmed once again at the sensation of being filled- this time felt so much more emotional. Cas groaned loudly in his ear as he smoothly penetrated Dean in one motion. They paused, holding very still to keep from coming. Soon Dean was writhing around, eager for Cas to _move_ already, and Cas rolled his hips in response. In seconds, Cas was slamming his hips flush against Dean, pulling his legs around his waist and stuffing a pillow under his hips for better leverage. Dean pulled him down and reached around Cas the best he could, barely able to touch the plug still inside of Cas on the upstroke. He wanted to twist the on switch, but just the slightest pressure with his fingertips set off a chain reaction: it jolted Cas forward, crying out and biting Dean’s collarbone, coming hard inside of Dean; Dean arched backward, spurting hot come in between their chests; Dean shouted out a bunch of nonsense and the world whited out.

When Dean regained his senses, Cas was propped up on his elbows staring into Dean’s face with open affection. Dean smiled wanly up at him, and accepted light pecks on his panting lips, cheeks, and forehead. They lay there tangled up for a while until the stickiness between them began to get uncomfortable. Cas shifted and his softened cock slid from Dean’s body with a squelch; causing another round of rather sleepy, sated giggles. 

“I’ve never laughed so much during sex,” commented Dean, his eyes falling shut, “never thought it could be so nice.”

Cas chuckled, and then grunted. Dean cracked an eye open to watch while Cas pulled the plug out with a grimace and tossed it to the floor with the blue one and the tied-off condom. Cas flopped back on the bed, still huffing out deep breaths.

“Holy shit, Dean,” he mumbled, “if it’s always like that, you are going to be the death of me.”

Dean laughed and waved a hand at him. “We should probably clean up before we pass out. ‘Cause once I fall asleep, I’m gonna be out for a few weeks.”

“Yeah, me too.” Cas sat up and manhandled Dean into a sitting position and left to go to the bathroom. Dean dozed off, resting against the headboard until Cas returned with a washcloth and a glass of orange juice. Dean gulped it down and smiled as Cas cleaned him up. Cas pulled him off the bed and practically carried him to the bathroom where the shower was already running and the bathroom was steamy.

“Hop in there, and I’ll be right back.” Cas flashed a smile and disappeared. Dean stood under the spray and groaned as the water pounded on his worn back muscles. Cas reappeared shortly after and slipped in, and proceeded to wash Dean and himself again. Dean smiled and apologized for being completely useless. Cas laughed and turned off the faucets. 

“You deserve to be treated like royalty, Dean,” Cas said, smirking, “like the princess you are.”

“Hey,” protested Dean half-heartedly, “if I’m a princess then you should carry me back to the bedroom, right?” 

Cas looked just as tired and simply rolled his eyes and wrapped Dean in a towel and dragged him back to Dean’s bed. He had already cleaned up, including changing the sheets and cracking the window and letting some fresh air in. They hopped into bed and wrapped the blankets around themselves and curled together, letting sleep claim them.

********

Cas looked down at Dean’s sleeping form, thinking about Dean’s declaration during the heat of the moment of passion. 

“I love you too, Dean,” he whispered, closing his eyes and drifting off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we are entering the wrap-up portion of our story. Imma fluff the fuck outta this shit, so be prepared. maybe 2 more shortish chapters.


	19. Thanksgiving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turkey Fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last Chapter! I plan on posting a Christmas epilogue later today.   
> Thanks to all who stuck through and left me comments- you guys make this so much more fun!   
> If you liked the story, leave me kudos or comment me, I always write back :)
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> *the fluffiest fluff to ever fluff  
> *Dean may have a slight ruffled apron kink

It seemed like time rippled and it was the end of the semester. Thanksgiving turned out to be a bigger affair than was originally planned. Cas was excited to be cooking for a whole family- he had it planned down to the finest detail. Turkey, dressing (cranberry oyster), mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, cranberry sauce, green bean casserole, pumpkin pie, apple pie, cherry pie, dill bread, curried fruit, and homemade sweet tea. He planned to stuff everyone until they couldn’t move. Because they were American, dammit.

Meg, in a move that surprised everyone, decided on a long-term treatment facility. It was inpatient, but she was allowed to take a pass to come and eat with Cas and Dean. Kevin and Charlie were going to eat with their families, but were eating early, so they’d make it by the time Cas served his masterpiece. Gabe and Kali were coming too, and Bobby and Jodi promised to at least come by for pie. Sam went to Jess’ house for an early meal, and they too would make it for a second helping. Cas wasn’t worried that no one would be hungry; he planned to take the leftovers plus an extra turkey he was cooking and bring it downtown to Tent City later that evening. He had a few people he had in mind that needed a hot meal but were too off in their disease to show up at a church kitchen. Gabe had suggested going, and Cas was ecstatic. It was people showing up for him randomly that got him clean, and he felt moved to return the favor. 

Cas jumped out of bed as soon as his alarm went off at 5am, and he tip-toed around the room gathering his clothes, careful not to wake Dean. He went to the kitchen and set up the coffee pot and started prepping the turkey. It would be a long day of cooking, and he was thrilled to be allowed to do it. It was his first real Thanksgiving since his dad died, and he was determined to make it spectacular. 

At first they were planning to have it at his house. But it had been slow going cleaning out all the old furniture. Most was in pretty good shape, but it was just time to let go of it. Cas wanted to start from scratch, and repaint everything. Gutting the house was a bit much while school was going on, so he and Dean decided to just do the master bathroom. Dean was pretty handy with some tools, and Cas insisted he wear his pants showing his butt crack while he worked on the plumbing. There was a lot of floor sex due to the lack of furniture. 

Around the second day of cleaning, Cas went in the basement to look at the state of the washer and dryer. He was shocked to find that his mother hadn’t thrown out all his paintings after all. He sat there sobbing over all of it until Dean found him and hugged him until he felt better. He decided not to put them back up in the discolored spots on the walls and to give them away as gifts for Christmas. Most were pretty angsty but beautiful and reminded him of his sad childhood. 

Cas busied himself in the kitchen until he found a rhythm. It was a rather small room, but he navigated it easily while absently singing under his breath. He would wait until Sam and Dean were awake to blast some Death Cab or another cooking favorite. He was bending down checking the temp inside the oven when he heard a low whistle behind him. 

“Damn, that booty,” came Dean’s sleepy voice from the doorway. Cas twisted around slightly and grinned. Dean was especially beautiful early in the morning, rumpled with sleep, face still smooth and innocent. He flashed a small smile and headed for the coffee pot with purpose. Cas continued his prep, feeling Dean’s eyes on him the whole time. Of course, he added a few little shakes of his hips and let his shirt ride up when he reached for things, pretending he didn’t see Dean shift his pajama pants a little. Eventually, Dean shook his head, smirking, and headed back to presumably take a shower. Cas threw himself back into the task at hand, glancing over his shoulder to see if Dean was really gone before grabbing his bookbag and quickly rummaging. They had been at the house all week, cleaning, and he occasionally would find a random thing worth hanging on to. He smiled to himself as he pulled out what he was looking for.

Cas was lazily stirring the cranberries over a low heat when he heard Dean walk in again. He grinned at Dean’s audible gasp from the doorway. Cas spun with flair, his red-checked ruffled apron swirling around him. He batted his eyelashes at Dean and made a short curtsey. Dean looked positively gobsmacked. He blinked for several seconds, lips parted, before he broke into a grin. Soon he had and Cas were laughing hysterically. 

“Where did you even get that?” Dean gasped, wiping tears away, still convulsing in a giggle or two. 

“It was one of my grandma’s. They never were Naomi’s cup of tea, but she hadn’t thrown them out. You like it?” Cas straightened the bib and smoothed over the skirt. Dean was nodding, pulling him closer to press kisses to his jaw.

“God, I love you,” Dean mumbled into his neck. Seeming to suddenly realize what he just said, Dean froze with his lips on Cas neck. Cas gripped his shoulders and drew him back into view. The panic on Dean’s face was unmistakeable. 

Cas smiled calmly and held Dean’s gaze, still keeping him as close as possible.

“I was wondering when you’d say it again,” he said smirking suddenly.

Dean flushed a brilliant red and his confusion was adorable. “Wha- when? I did? I- what?”

Cas laughed, kissing Dean softly on the lips. “Yeah, I thought you might not have known what you said in the midst of a pretty awesome orgasm, but I can assure you that the neighbors know.”

Dean tried to pull away, making Cas realize he might have pushed the wrong button. He couldn’t have a misunderstanding- not now, not when things were going so well. He tightened his grip and sucked in a breath quickly.

“Dean I have never in my life met anyone like you, I think I’ve loved you longer than even I know. Something about you fits right up against me, a piece I didn’t even know I was missing until I met you. I had no idea that my heart was out there walking around outside of my body. It just needed to come home. I need you to come home, Dean. I love you and never want to be away from you.”

He gulped and added the last part, praying hard for an acceptance and not rejection.

“I want you and Sam to come live in my house with me. I want it to be your house as much as mine. That is, if you want to,” he said quickly.

Dean’s face was blank and Cas wondered if Dean had even heard him. The pit in his stomach was growing deeper as he waited for Dean to move.

It was like the sun breaking through a bank of clouds when Dean smiled. He pulled Cas back in and started giggling again, burying his face into his neck again and just positively cracking up. Cas waited patiently until he was finished to pull him back, hoping for an answer.

“Dean?”

“I’m sorry, Cas,” said Dean, looking dopey with joy, “of course me and Sam will come live with you. I was going to suggest it when Sam left for school next year, but sooner is so much better. Sam will like having a yard.”

Cas exhaled shakily. He was grinning hard, and blinking back tears, knowing it was way too soon in the day to be ruining his eyeliner. 

They ended up having celebratory blowjobs in the bedroom while the turkey was cooking. Sam was up and out of the house by 10, rolling his eyes at how cute Dean and Cas were being. He was thrilled to hear about moving into the house on Sweetbriar, but Cas was sure part of the excitement was that Jess lived within walking distance. 

Meg showed up at noon with a plate of cookies she baked herself at the sober living house, and said she had big news. With nothing less than her usual dramatic flair, she announced to Dean and Cas that she was pregnant, and she was keeping the baby. Alistair was the father, but it had ended up that he had several warrants out on him, one of which was attempted murder, so it looked like he was going to be locked up for good. Meg said she now felt kinda okay about filing charges on him- it meant that he would be off the streets for good. 

Cas was over the moon with the news about the baby, and after a rushed conversation with Dean, they invited her to come stay with them in Cas’ house when she graduated her program and to have the baby. Meg immediately started crying and hugging the two of them, saying only ice cream would get her to stop. Cas knew what they were signing up for, but Meg was family too, and she needed them. 

He watched with amusement as Meg and Dean took turns yelling at the tv during the football game. Alabama always won. He danced around the kitchen in his apron, visions of a nursery swimming in his head. A baby! It was so exciting. It was still fairly early in Meg’s pregnancy, but there was a lot to do. 

Kevin and Charlie showed up right as the mashed potatoes were done, and Kevin helped Cas set the table. Cas put the second turkey in and reorganized the kitchen to start the meal to take to Tent City later. The pies were cooling and Cas had a wooden spoon at the ready to fend off Dean trying to steal a taste. 

Soon the other guests arrived and the two-bedroom apartment was packed to the gills with people who had in some way changed Cas’ life. Jodi rescuing him from the bus station bathroom floor, Gabe becoming his sponsor, Kali taking a chance on him and giving him a job, Bobby treating him with the same gruff love he gave Dean and Sam-truly making him feel like family. Kevin and Charlie always let him be exactly who he was, and Meg gave him love and support and was there through some dark times in the beginning. Sam was the little brother Cas didn’t know he wanted- and even John Winchester had shaken his hand and patted his back when he visited with Dean, which made Dean positively beam with pride. John was being released soon, and would be out for good before Christmas.

And Dean himself. There weren’t adequate words in the English language to describe the way Cas really felt about Dean. 

Cas looked around the cramped living room at the loud, laughing, eating family. This was home. These people were home. Wherever they went, Cas’ home went with them. It was the first time in his life he felt that way. He slid into his spot on the couch with a heaping plate of food and grinned at Dean, searchin for words.

Dean returned the smile. “I know, babe, me too.”

********

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They still have to exchange Christmas gifts! 
> 
> A fluff ending coming soon!


	20. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The smooshy Christmas wrap-up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know that Fare Thee Well (Dink's song)'s author is unknown? It's a folk song that was first documented in the 30's- So maybe AU where Chuck actually did write it? In the 80's? Com'on guys, its fanfic, just go with it
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING:  
> *sickening sweet fluff  
> *you might gag on the fluff  
> *absolutely no blow jobs, I apologize.

The house was put together enough for a proper Christmas. There was still buckets of paint everywhere, and several projects on hold until after Dean’s lease was up, but Cas insisted on putting up a tree and inviting everyone over Christmas morning for gifts. He had been hiding Dean’s painting in the spare downstairs bedroom, making Dean swear not to go in there or the surprise would be ruined. 

Charlie picked up Meg from the sober living house and they were a flurry of giggling and whispers when they arrived. They somehow had gotten very close in the last month or so, even though they were polar opposites. Dean nudged Cas to point out that they were sort of holding hands.

John Winchester had been released from prison to a halfway house himself in the last week. He was thrilled to be invited to spend the morning with his sons. It was clear he was doing his best to make amends to Dean and Sam, and it would be a long process.

Dean’s face was priceless when he was finally allowed to see the painting Cas had stashed in the spare room. Charlie squealed and jumped up and down, screaming that she was so happy to not keep that secret anymore because it was literally killing her. Meg rolled her eyes fondly.

Dean sat Cas down in the living room and put a dvd in the player. They had bought a pretty large flat screen television, and it was surrounded by two super-squishy couches and two recliners- the first purchases Cas got to make for the house. Charlie lowered the lights and they gathered around with a very intrigued Cas. 

A photograph appeared on the screen. The photograph of Cas and his family. The one he destroyed the day he found out his mother died. The first few notes of a song he hadn’t heard in years filtered through the speakers, causing tears to spring up in his eyes. His father’s voice sang out strong and clear, filling the room with a sweet, sad, melody.

If I had wings like Noah's dove  
I'd fly up the river to the one I love  
Fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well  
If I met your man, who was long and tall  
I'd hit his body like a cannon ball  
Fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well  
One of these days and it won't be long  
Call my name and I'll be gone  
Fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well…

There were tears streaming freely down Cas’ face as photos and film clips played across the screen. Holidays, birthdays, visits to grandma’s house, and vacations to Gulf Shores. It was all the good parts of Cas’ childhood, the parts he had forgotten existed, the parts buried under all the pain. It began to transition into photos taken by Charlie of them all. Group shots at the cafe, shots of Dean and Cas, candid and posed, all of them full of love and happiness. The final shot was a photo of Chuck playing his guitar while baby Cas sat on the floor in front of him clapping his hands. 

Cas threw himself on Dean, smearing his face with kisses and eyeliner. They laughed and hugged and everyone in the room needed a tissue or two by the end. Even John. 

“Where? I mean, how did you get all those?” Cas asked when the group broke up to get food and exchange more gifts.

Dean smiled and kissed the tip of Cas’ nose. “Actually, Anna really helped me out with that. She had a lot of the original photos, and she was able to scan them and send them to me. Everything else I found in the basement. Anna helped me figure out which super 8 films were the good ones.”

Cas laughed in surprise and pulled out his phone to call her. Dean grabbed his hand and looked at him sheepishly.

“She won’t answer, Cas,” he said, biting back a smile.

Cas looked hurt. “Why not?”

Dean grinned broadly. “She’s on a plane right now, and we’re going to pick her up in an hour.”

Cas tackled him again. The first few tentative tendrils of communication had begun to open up between Cas and Anna after she called him the day after Thanksgiving sobbing; she was very sorry to have placed the responsibility of their mother’s death on him and wanted to try and start talking again. She and Cas had been on the phone at least once a day since. Cas liked to text.

Cas wrapped himself around Dean and kissed him slowly. “I love the fuck outta you,” he whispered into his ear, “and later I’m going to fuck the love outta you.”

Dean groaned at the awful joke, but burrowed his face into Cas’ neck, inhaling the familiar scent of home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with it until the end! Send me a prompt if you're bored and have an interesting yet smutty idea! I want to do some one-shots or something. Find me on Tumblr by the same name :)
> 
> "Fare Thee Well, Bitches"
> 
> -Charlie Bradbury (probably)


End file.
